ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN, 

AND (INCIDENTALLY) TO 

YOUNG WOMEN, 

IN THE 

MIDDLE AND HIGHER RANKS OF LIFE. 

IN A SERIES OF LETTERS, ADDRESSED TO 



▲ YOUTH, A BACHELOR, A LOVER, A HUSBAND, 
A CITIZEN OR A SUBJEQXrr"^ 



BY WIIXIAM COBBETT. 



NEW YORK : 
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOYLE, 

1846. 






, 



/ 



//*"/ 



J c 



INTRODUCTION. 



1. It is the duty, and ought to be the pleasure, of 
age and experience to warn and instruct youth and 
to come to the aid of inexperience. When sailors 
have discovered rocks or breakers, and have had the 
I >od luck to escape with life from amidst them, they, 
sa less they be pirates or barbarians as well as sai- 
* s, point out the spots for the placing of buoys and 
3f lights, in order that others may not be exposed to 
the danger which they have so narrowly escaped. 
What man of common humanity, having, by good 
luck, missed being engulfed in a quagmire or a quick- 
sand, will withhold from his neighbours a knowledge 
of the peril without which the dangerous spots are 
not to be approached ? 

2. The great effect which correct opinions and 
sound principles, imbibed in early life, together with 
the good conduct, at that age, which must naturally 
result from such opinions and principles; the great 
effect which these have on the whole course of our 
lives is, and must be, well known to every man of 
common observation. How many of us, arrived at 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

only 40 years, have to repent ; nay, which of us ha9 
not to repent, or has not had to repent, that he did 
not, at an earlier age, possess a great stock of know- 
ledge of that kind which has an immediate effect 
on our personal ease and happiness; that kind of 
knowledge, upon which the cheerfulness and the 
harmony of our homes depend! 

3. It is to communicate a stock of this sort of 
knowledge, in particular, that this work is intended; 
knowledge, indeed, relative to education, to many 
sciences, to trade, agriculture, horticulture, law, 
government, and religion ; knowledge relating, in- 
cidentally, to all these ; but, the main object is to 
furnish that sort of knowledge to the young which 
but few men acquire until they be old, when it comes 
too late to be useful. 

4. To communicate to others the knowledge that 
I possess has always been my taste and my delight ; 
and few, who know any-thing of my progress 
through life, will be disposed to question my fitness 
for the task. Talk of rocks and breakers and quag- 
mires and quick-sands, who has ever escaped from 
amidst so many as I have ! Thrown (by my own 
will, indeed) on the wide world at a very early age, 
not more than eleven or twelve years, without mo- 
ney to support, without friends to advise, and with- 
out book-learning to assist me ; passing a few years 
dependent solely on my own labour for my subsist- 
ence ; then becoming a common soldier and leading 
a military life, chiefly in foreign parts, for eight 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

years; quitting that life after really, for me, high 
promotion, and with, for me, a large sum of money ; 
marrying at an early age, going at once to France 
to acquire the French language, thence to America ; 
passing eight years there, becoming bookseller and 
author, and taking a prominent part In all the im- 
portant discussions of the interesting period from 
1793 to 1799, during which there was, in that coun- 
try, a continued struggle carried on between the 
English and the French parties ; conducting myself, 
in the ever-active part which I took in that struggle, 
in such a way as to call forth marks of unequivocal 
approbation from the government at home ; return- 
ing to England in 1800, resuming my labours here ? 
suffering, during these twenty-nine years, two years 
of imprisonment, heavy fines, three years self-ba- 
nishment to the other side of the Atlantic, and a total 
breaking of fortune, so as to be left without a bed to 
lie on, and, during these twenty-nine years of trou- 
bles and of punishments, writing and publishing, 
every week of my life, whether in exile or not, 
eleven weeks only excepted, a periodical paper, con- 
taining more or less of matter worthy of public atten 
tion ; writing and publishing, during the same twenty- 
nine years, a grammar of the French and another of 
the English language, a work on the Economy of the 
Cottage, a work on Forest Trees and Woodlands, a 
work on Gardening, an account of America, a book 
of Sermons, a work on the Corn-plant, a history of 
the Protestant Reformation ; all books of great and 
1* 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

continued sale, and the last unquestionably the book 
of greatest circulation in the whole world, the Bible 
only excepted; having, during these same txcenty- 
nine years, of troubles and embarrassments without 
number, introduced into England the manufacture of 
Strawplat ; also several valuable trees ; having in- 
troduced, during the same twenty-nine years, the 
cultivation of the Corn-plant so manifestly valuable 
as a source of food ; having, during the same period, 
always (whether in exile or not) sustained a shop of 
some size, in London ; having, during the whole of 
the same period, never employed less, on an ave- 
rage, than ten persons, in some capacity or other> 
exclusive of printers, bookbinders, and others, con- 
nected with papers and books ; and having, during 
these twenty-nine years of troubles, embarrassments, 
prisons, fines, and banishments, bred up a family of 
seven children to man's and woman's state. 

5. If such a man be not, after he has survived and 
accomplished all this, qualified to give Advice to 
Young Men, no man is qualified for that task. 
There may have been natural genius : but genius 
alone, not all the genius in the world, could, without 
something more, have conducted me through these 
perils. During these twenty-nine years, I have had 
for deadly and ever- watchful foes, a government that 
has the collecting and distributing of sixty millions 
of pounds in a year, and also, every soul who shares 
in that distribution. Until very lately, I have had, 
for the far greater part of the time, the whole of the 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

press as my deadly enemy. Yet, at this moment, it 
will not be pretended, that there is another man in the 
kingdom, who has so many cordial friends. For as 
to the friends of ministers and the great, the friend- 
ship is towards the power, the influence; it is, in 
fact, towards those taxes, of which so many thou- 
sands are gaping to get at a share. And, if we 
could, through so thick a veil, come at the naked 
fact, we should find the subscription, now going on 
in Dublin for the purpose of erecting a monument in 
that city, to commemorate the good recently done, 
or alleged to be done, to Ireland, by the Duke of 
Wellington ; we should find, that the subscribers 
have the taxes in view ; and that, if the monument 
shall actually be raised, it ought to have selfishness 
and not gratitude, engraven on its base. Nearly the 
same may be said with regard to all the praises that 
we hear bestowed on men in power. The friend- 
ship which is felt towards me, is pure and disinter- 
ested : it is not founded in any hope that the parties 
can have, that they can ever profit from professing 
it : it is founded on the gratitude which they enter- 
tain for the good that I have done them : and of this 
sort of friendship, and friendship so cordial, no man 
ever possessed a larger portion. 

6. Now, mere genius will not acquire this for a 
man. There must be something more than genius : 
there must be industry : there must be perseverance : 
there must be, before the eyes of the nation, proofs 
of extraordinary exertion ; people must say to them* 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

selves, " What wise conduct must there have been 
" in the employing of the time of this man ! How 
" sober, how sparing in diet, how early a riser, how 
" little expensive he must have been I" These are 
the things, and not genius, which have caused my 
labours to be so incessant and so successful : and, 
though I do not affect to believe, that every young 
man, who should read this work, will become able 
to perform labours of equal magnitude and impor- 
tance, I do pretend, that every young man, who will 
attend to my advice, will become able to perform a 
great deal more than men generally do perform, 
whatever may be his situation in life ; and, that he 
will, too, perform it with greater ease and satisfac- 
tion, than he would, without the advice, be able to 
perform the smaller portion. 

7. I have had, from thousands of young men, and 
men advanced in years also, letters of thanks for the 
great benefit which they have derived from my la- 
bours. Some have thanked me for my Grammars, 
some for my Cottage-Economy, others for the Wood- 
lands and the Gardener ; and, in short, for every one 
of my works have I received letters of thanks from 
numerous persons, of whom I had never heard be- 
fore. In many cases I have been told, that, if the 
parties had had my books to read some years before, 
the gain to them, whether in time or in other things, 
would have been very great. Many, and a great 
many, have told me, that, though long at school, and 
though their parents had paid for their being taught 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

English Grammar, or French, they had, in a short 
time, learned more from my books, on those sub- 
jects, than they had learned, in years, from their 
teachers. How many gentlemen have thanked me, 
in the strongest terms, for my Woodlands and Gar- 
dener, observing (just as Lord Bacon had observed 
in his time) that they had before seen no books, on 
these subjects, that they could understand. But, I 
know not of any thing that ever gave me more satis- 
faction than I derived from the visit of a gentleman 
of fortune, whom I had never heard of before, and 
who, about four years ago, came to thank me in 
person for a complete reformation, which had been 
worked in his son by the reading of my two ser- 
mons on drinking and on gaming. 

8. I have, therefore, done, already, a great deal in 
this way : but there is still wanting, in a compact 
form, a body of Advice such as that which I now 
propose to give : and in the giving of which I shall 
divide my matter as follows. 1. Advice addressed 
to a Youth ; 2. Advice addressed to a Bachelor ; 
3. Advice addressed to a Lover ; 4. To a Husband : 
5. To a Father ; 6. To a Citizen or Subject. 

9. Some persons will smile, and others laugh out- 
right, at the idea of " Cobbett's giving advice for 
conducting the affairs of loveP Yes, but I was 
once young, and surely I may say with the poet, I 
forget which of them : 

" Though old I am, for ladies' love unfit, 
The power of beauty I remember yet" 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

I forget, indeed, filenames of the ladies as completely, 
pretty nigh, as I do that of the poets ; but I remem- 
ber their influence, and of this influence on the con- 
duct and in the affairs and on the condition of men, I 
have, and must have, been a witness all my life long. 
And, when we consider in how great a degree the 
happiness of all the remainder of a man's life de- 
pends, and always must depend, on his taste and 
judgment in the character of a lover, this may well 
be considered as the most important period of the 
whole term of his existence. 

10. In my address to the Husband, I shall, of 
course, introduce advice relative to the important 
duties of masters and servants; duties of great im- 
portance, whether considered as affecting families or 
as affecting the community. In my address to the 
Citizen or Subject, I shall consider all the recipro- 
cal duties of the governors and the governed, and 
also the duties which man owes to his neighbour. 
It would be tedious to attempt to lay down rules for 
conduct exclusively applicable to every distinct call- 
ing, profession and condition of life ; but, under the 
above-described heads, will be conveyed every spe- 
cies of advice of which I deem the utility to be un- 
questionable. 

11. I have, thus, fully described the nature of my 
little work, and, before I enter on the first Letter, 1 
venture to express a hope, that its good effects will be 
felt long after its author shall have ceased to exist. 



LETTER I. 



TO A VOUTH. 



12. You are now arrived at that age which the 
law thinks sufficient to make an oath, taken by you, 
valid in a court of law. Let us suppose from four- 
teen to nearly twenty ; and, reserving, for a future 
occasion, my remarks on your duty towards pa- 
rents, let me here offer you my advice as to the 
means likely to contribute largely towards making 
you a happy man, useful to all about you, and an 
honour to those from whom you sprang. 

13. Start, I beseech you, with a conviction firmly 
fixed on your mind, that you have no right to live 
in this world ; that, being of hale body and sound 
mind, you have no right to any earthly existence, 
without doing work of some sort or other, unless 
you have ample fortune whereon to live clear of 
debt ; and, that even in that case, you have no right 
to breed children, to be kept by others, or to be ex- 
posed to the chance of being so kept. Start with 
this conviction thoroughly implanted in your mind. 
To wish to live on the labour of others is, besides the 
folly of it, to contemplate a fraud at the least, and, 
under certain circumstances, to meditate oppression 
and robbery. 

14. I suppose you in the middle rank of life. 
Happiness ought to be your great object, and it is to 
be found onlv in ivdej>endence. Turn your back on 
Whitehall and on Somerset-House ; leave the Cus- 
toms and Excise to the feeble and low-minded ; look 
not for success to favoiu, to partiality, to friendship, 
or to what is called interest: write it on your heart, 



12 cobbett's advice [Letter 

that you will depend solely on your own merit and 
your own exertions. Think not, neither, of any of 
those situations, where gaudy habiliments and sound- 
ing titles poorly disguise from the eyes of good sense 
the mortifications and the heart-ache of slaves. An- 
swer me not by saying, that these situations " must 
be filled by somebody;" for, if I were to admit the 
truth of the proposition, which I do not, it would re- 
main for you to show, that they are conducive to 
happiness, the contrary of which has been proved to 
me by the observation of a now pretty long life. 

15. Indeed, reason tells us, that it must be thus : 
for that which a man owes to favour or to partiality, 
that same favour or partiality is constantly liable to 
take from him. He who lives upon any thing ex- 
cept his own labour, is incessantly surrounded by 
rivals : his grand resource is that servility in which 
he is always liable to be surpassed. He is in daily 
danger of being out-bidden ; his very bread depends 
upon caprice ; and he lives in a state of uncertainty 
and never-ceasing fear. His is not, indeed, the dog's 
life, " hunger and idleness ;" but it is worse ; for it 
is " idleness with slavery," the latter being the just 
price of the former. Slaves frequently are well fed 
and well clad; but, slaves dare not speak; they 
dare not be suspected to think differently from their 
masters : hate his acts as much as they may ; be he 
tyrant, be he drunkard, be he fool, or be he all three 
at once, they must be silent, or, nine times out of 
ten, affect approbation : though possessing a thou- 
sand times his knowledge, they must feign a convic- 
tion of his superior understanding ; though know- 
ing that it is they, who, in fact, do all that he is paid 
for doing, it is destruction to them to seem as if they 
thought any portion of the service belonged to them ! 
Far from me be the thought, that any youth who 
shall read this page would not rather perish than 
submit to live in a state like this ! Such a state is 
fit only for the refuse of nature ; the halt, the half- 
blind, the unhappy creatures whom nature has 
marked out for degradation. 



L] TO A YOUTH. 13 

16. And how comes it, then, that we see hale and 
even clever youths voluntarily bending their necks 
to this slavery ; nay, pressing forward in eager rival- 
ship to assume the yoke that ought to be insupport- 
able ? The cause, and the only cause, is, that the 
deleterious fashion of the day has created so many 
artificial wants, and has raised the minds of young 
men so much above their real rank and state of life, 
that they look scornfully on the employment, the 
fare, and the dress that would become them ; and, in 
order to avoid that state in which they might live 
free and happy, they become showy slaves. 

17. The great source of independence, the French 
express in a precept of three words, u Vivre de peu," 
which I have always very much admired. " To 
live upon little- is the great security against slavery ; 
and this precept extends to dress and other things 
besides food and drink. When Doctor Johnson 
wrote his dictionary, he put in the word pensioner 
thus : " Pensioner— A slave of state" After this he 
himself became a pensioner ! And, thus, agreeably 
to his own definition, he lived and died " a slave of 
state /" What must this man of great genius, and 
of great industry too, have felt at receiving this pen- 
sion ! Could he be so callous as not to feel a pang 
upon seeing his own name placed before his own 
degrading definition ? And, what could induce him 
to submit to this ? His wants, his artificial wants, his 
habit of indulging in the pleasures of the table ; his 
disregard of the precept ;; Vivre de pen." This was 
the cause; and, be it observed, that indulgences of 
this sort, while they tend to make men poor and 
expose them to commit mean acts, tend also to en- 
feeble the body, and more especially to cloud and 
to weaken the mind. 

18. When this celebrated author wrote his dic- 
tionary, he had not been debased by luxurious en- 
joyments ; the rich and powerful had not caressed 
him into a slave ; his writings then bore the stamp 
of truth and independence : but, having been debased 
by luxury, he who had, while content with plain 

2 



14 cobbett's advice [Letter 

• 
fare, been the strenuous advocate of the rights of the 
people, became a strenuous advocate for taxation 
without representation ; and, in a work under the title 
of " Taxation no Tyranny" defended, and greatly 
assisted to produce, that unjust and bloody war 
which' finally severed from England that great coun- 
try, the United States of America, now the most 
powerful and dangerous rival that this kingdom ever 
had. The statue of Dr. Johnson was the first that 
was put into St. Paul's Church ! A signal warning 
to us not to look upon monuments in honour of the 
dead as a proof of their virtues ; for here we see St. 
Paul's Church holding up to the veneration of poste- 
rity a man whose own writings, together with the 
records of the pension list, prove him to have been 
" a slave of state." 

19. Endless are the instances of men of bright 
parts and high spirit having been, by degrees, render- 
ed powerless and despicable, by their imaginary 
wants. Seldom has there been a man with a fairer 
prospect of accomplishing great things and of ac- 
quiring lasting renown, than Charles Fox : he had 
great talents of the most popular sort ; the times 
were singularly favourable to an exertion of them 
with success ; a large part of the nation admired him 
and were his partizans ; he had, as to the great 
question between him and his rival (Pitt,) reason and 
justice clearly on his side ; but he had against him 
his squandering and luxurious habits : these made 
him dependent on the rich part of his partizans; 
made his wisdom subservient to opulent folly or sel- 
fishness ; deprived his country 01 all the benefit that 
it might have derived from his talents ; and, finally, 
sent him to the grave without a single sigh from a 
people, a great part of whom would, in his earlier 
years, have wept at his death as at a national calamity. 

20. Extravagance in dress ', in the haunting of 
play-houses, in horses, in every thing else, is to be 
avoided, and, in youths and young men, extrava- 
gance in dress particularly. . This sort of extrava- 
gance, this waste of money on the decoration of the 



I.J TO A YOUTH. 16 

body, arises solely from vanity, and from vanity of the 
most contemptible sort. It arises from the notion, 
that all the people in the street, for instance, will be 
looking at you as soon as you walk out ; and that 
they will, in a greater or less degree, think the better 
of you on account of your fine dress. Never was 
notion more false. All the sensible people, that hap- 
pen to see you, will think nothing at all about you : 
those who are filled with the same vain notion as 
you are, will perceive your attempt to impose on 
them, and will despise you accordingly : rich people 
will wholly disregard you, and you will be envied 
and hated by those who have the same vanity that 
you have without the means of gratifying it. Dress 
should be suited to your rank and station ; a sur- 
geon or physician should not dress like a carpenter ! 
but, there is no reason why a tradesman, a mer- 
chant's clerk, or clerk of any kind, or why a shop- 
keeper, or manufacturer, or even a merchant ; no 
reason at all why any of these should dress in 
an expensive manner. It is a great mistake to 
suppose, that they derive any advantage from 
exterior decoration. Men are estimated by other 
men according to their capacity and willingness to 
be in some way or other useful; and, though, with 
the foolish and vain part of women, fine clothes fre- 
quently do something, yet the greater part of the 
sex are much too penetrating to draw their conclu- 
sions solely from the outside show of a man : they 
look deeper, and find other criterions whereby to 
judge. And, after all, if the fine clothes obtain you 
a wife, will they bring you, in that wife, frugality, 
good sense, and that sort of attachment that is likely 
to be lasting ? Natural beauty of person is quite 
another thing : this always has, it always will and 
must have, some weight even with men, and great 
weight with women. But, this does not want to be 
set off by expensive clothes. Feiaale eyes are, in 
sifch cases, very sharp ; they can discover beauty 
though half hidden by beard, and even by dirt, and 
srjrounded by rags : and, take this as a secret worth 



16 cobbett's advice [Letter 

half a fortune to you, that women, however person- 
ally vain they may be themselves, despise personal 
vanity in men. 

21. Let your dress be as cheap as may be without 
shabbiness ; think more about the colour of your 
shirt than about the gloss or texture of your coat , 
be always as clean as your occupation will, without 
inconvenience, permit; but never, no, not for one mo- 
ment, believe, that any human being, with sense in 
skull, will love or respect you on account of your fine 
or costly clothes. A great misfortune of the present 
day is, that every one is, in his own estimate, raised 
above his real state of life : every one seems to think 
himself entitled, if not to title and great estate, at least 
to live without work. This mischievous, this most de- 
structive way of thinking, has, indeed, been produced, 
like almost all our other evils, by the Acts of our 
Septennial and Unreformed Parliament. That body, 
by its Acts, has caused an enormous Debt tabe created, 
and, in consequence, a prodigious sum to be raised 
annually in taxes. It has caused, by these means, a 
race of loan-mongers and stock-jobbers to arise* 
These carry on a species of gaming, by which some 
make fortunes in a day, and others, in a day, become 
beggars. The unfortunate gamesters, like the pur- 
chasers of blanks in a Lottery, are never heard of; 
but the fortunate ones become companions for lords, 
and some of them lords themselves. We have, with- 
in these few years, seen many of these gamesters get 
fortunes of a quarter of a million in a few days, and 
then wehave heard them, though notoriously amongst 
the lowest and basest of human creatures, called 
" honourable gentlemen." ! In such a state of things, 
who is to expect patient industry, laborious study 
frugality, and care ; who, in such a state of things, 
is to expect these to be employed in pursuit of thai 
competence which it is the laudable wish of all men 
to secure ? Not long ago a man, who had served his 
time to a tradesman in London, became, instead gf 
pursuing his trade, a stock-jobber, or gambler ; and, 
in about two years, drove his coach and four, had his 



I. J TO A VOUTtf. 17 

town house and country house, and visited, and was 
visited by, peers of Hie highest rank ! Afellmc-ap- 
pr -entice of this lucky gambler, though a tradesman 
in excellent business, seeing no earthly reason why 
he should not have his coach and four also, turned 
his stock in trade into a stake for the ^Change ; but, 
alas ! at the end of a few months, instead of being 
in a coach and four, he was in the Gazette ! 

22. This is one instance out of hundreds of thou- 
sands ; not, indeed, exactly of the same description, 
but all arising from the same copious source. The 
words speculate and speculation have been substituted 
for gamble and gambling. The hatefulness of the 
pursuit is thus taken away ; and, while taxes to the 
amount of more than double the whole of the rental 
of the kingdom ; while these cause such crowds of 
idlers, every one of whom calls himself o. gentleman^ 
and avoids the appearance of working for his bread ; 
while this is the case, who is to wonder, that a great 
part of the youth of the country, knowing themselves 
to be as good, as learned, and as well bred as these 
gentlemen : who is to wonder, that they think, that 
they also ought to be considered as gentlemen ? 
Then, the late war, (also the work of the Septenni- 
al Parliament,) has left us, amongst its many lega- 
cies, such swarms of titled men and women ; such 
Swarms of " Sirs* and their " Ladies ;" men and 
women who, only the other day, were the fel- 
low-apprentices, fellow-tradesmen's or farmers' sons 
and daughters, or, indeed, the fellow-servants, of 
those who are now in these several states of life ; 
the late Septennial Parliament war has left us such 
swarms of these, that it is no wonder that the heads 
of young people are turned, and that they are asha- 
med of that state of life to act their part well in 
which ought to be their delight. 

23. But, though the cause of the evil is in A.ete of 
the Septennial Parliament ; though this universal 
desire in people to be thought to be above their sta- 
tion ; though this arises from such acts ; and, 
though it is no wonder that your.g men are thus 

2* 



18 cobbett's advice [Letter 

turned from patient study and labour ; though these 
things be undoubted, they form no reason why I 
should not warn you against becoming a victim to 
this national scourge. For, in spite of every art 
made use of to avoid labour, the taxes will, after all, 
maintain only so many idlers. We cannot all be 
" knights" and "gentlemen:" there must be a large 
part of us, after all, to make and mend clothes and 
houses, and carry on trade and commerce, and, in 
spite of all that we can do, the far greater part of us 
must actually work at something ; for, unless we 
can get at some of the taxes, we fall under the sen- 
tence of Holy Writ, " He who will not work shall 
not eat." Yet, so strong is the propensity to be 
thought "gentlemen ;" so general is this desire 
amongst the youth of this formerly laborious and 
unassuming nation ; a nation famed for its pursuit 
of wealth through the channels of patience, punctu- 
ality, and integrity ; a nation famed for its love of 
solid acquisitions and qualities, and its hatred of 
every thing showy and false: so general is this 
really fraudulent desire amongst the youth of this 
now " speculating" nation, that thousands upon 
thousands of them are, at this moment, in a state of 
half starvation, not so much because they are too 
lazy to earn their bread, as because they are too 
proud! And what are the consequences? Such a 
youth remains or becomes, a burden to his parents 3 
of whom he ought to be the comfort if not the sup- 
port. Always aspiring to something higher than he 
can reach, his life is a life of disappointment and of 
shame. If marriage befal him, it is a real affliction, 
involving others as well as himself. His lot is a 
thousand times worse than that of the common la- 
bouring pauper. Nineteen times out of twenty a 
premature death awaits him : and, alas ! how nume- 
rous are the cases in which that death is most mise- 
rable, not to say ignominious ! Stupid pride is one 
of the symptons of madness. Of the two madmen 
mentioned in Don Quixote, . one thought himself 
Neptune and the other Jupiter. Shakspeare agrees 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 19 

with Cervantes ; for, Mad Tom, in King Lear, being 
asked who he is, answers, " I am a tailor run mad 
with pride." How many have we heard of, who 
claimed relationship with noblemen&nd kings j while 
of not a few each has thought himself the Son of 
God ! To the public journals, and to the observa- 
tions of every one, nay, to the " county-lunatic asy- 
lums" (things never heard of in England till now,) 
I appeal for the fact of the vast and hideous increase 
of madness in this country ; and, within these very 
few years, how many scores of young men, who, if 
their minds had been unperverted by the gambling 
principles of the day, had a probably long and hap- 
py life before them ; who had talent, personal en- 
dowments, love of parents, love of friends, admira- 
tion of large circles ; who had, in short, every thing 
to make life desirable, and who, from mortified 
pride, founded on false pretensions, have put an end 
to their own existence. 

24. As to Drunkenness and Gluttony, generally 
so called, these are vices so nasty and beastly that I 
deem any one capable of indulging in them to be 
wholly unworthy of my advice ; and, if any youth, 
unhappily initiated in these odious and debasing 
vices, should happen to read what I am now writing, 
I refer him to the command of God, conveyed to th« 
Israelites by Moses, in Deuteronomy, chapter xxi. 
The father and mother are to take the bad son " and 
bring him to the elders of the city ; and they shall 
say to the elders, this our son will not obey our 
voice : he is a glutton and a drunkard. And all the 
men of the city shall stone him with stones, that he 
die." I refer downright beastly gluttons and drunk- 
ards to this ; but indulgence short, far short, of this 
gross and really nasty drunkenness and gluttony is 
to be deprecated, and that, too, with the more earn- 
estness because it is too often looked upon as being 
no crime at all, and as having nothing blameable ia 
it : nay, there are many persons, who pride them- 
selves on their refined taste in matters connected 
with eating and drinking: so far from being ashan>< 



$0 co&bett's a b Vice L Le lter 

ed of employing their thoughts on the subject, it is 
their boast that they do it. St. Gregory, one of the 
Christian fathers, says: "It is not the quantity or the 
quality of the meat, or drink, but the love of it that is 
condemned :" that is to say, the indulgence beyond 
the absolute demands of nature ; the hankering after 
it ; the neglect of some duty or other for the sake of 
the enjoyments of the table. 

25. This love of what are called " good eating and 
drinking," if very unamiable in grown-up persons, 
is perfectly hateful ma youth; and, if he indulge 
in the propensity, he is already half ruined. To 
warn you against acts of fraud, robbery, and vio* 
lence, is not my province ; that is the business of 
those who make and administer the law. I am not 
talking to you against acts which the jailor and the 
hangman punish ; nor against those moral offences 
Which all men condemn ; but against indulgences, 
which, by men in general, are deemed not only 
harmless, but meritorious ; but which the observa- 
tion of my whole life has taught me to regard as de- 
structive to human happiness ; and against which 
all ought to be cautioned even in their boyish days. 
I have been a great observer, and I can truly say, 
that I have never known a man, " fond of good eat- 
ing and drinking," as it is called ; that I have never 
known such a man (and hundreds I have known) 
who was worthy of respect. 

26. Such indulgences are, in the first place, very 
expensive. The materials are costly, and the pre- 
parations still more so. What a monstrous thing, 
that, in order to satisfy the appetite of a man, there 
must be a person or two at work every day ! More 
fuel, culinary implements, kitchen-room : what ! ali 
these merely to tickle the palate of four or five peo- 
ple, and especially people who can hardly pay their 
way ! And, then, the loss of time: the time spent in 
pleasing the palate : it is truly horrible to behold 
people, who ought to be at work, sitting, at the three 
meals, not less than three of the about fourteen hours 
that they are out of their beds ! A youth, habituat- 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 21 

ed to this sort of indulgence, cannot be valuable to 
any employer. Such a youth cannot be deprived of 
his table enjoyments on any account : his eating and 
drinking form the momentous concern of his life : 
if business interfere with that, the business must 
give way. A young man, some years ago, offered 
himself to me, on a particular occasion, as an ama- 
nuensis i for which he appeared to be perfectly quali- 
fied. The terms were settled, and I, who wanted 
the job dispatched, requested him to sit down, and 
begin ; but he, looking out of the window, w 7 hence 
he could see the church clock, said, somewhat hasti- 
ly, " I cannot stop now, sir, I must go to dinner." 
" Oh !" said I, " you must go to dinner, must you ! 
Let the dinner, which you must wait upon to-day, 
have your constant services, then ; for you and I 
shall never agree." He had told me that he was in 
great distress for want of employment ; and yet, 
when relief was there before his eyes, he could fore- 
go it for the sake of getting at his eating and drink- 
ing three or four hours, perhaps, sooner than I 
should have thought it right for him to leave off 
work. Such a person cannot be sent from home, 
except at certain times ; he must be near the kitchen 
at three fixed hours of the day : if he be absent 
more than four or five hours, he is ill-treated. In 
short, a youth thus pampered is worth nothing as a 
person to be employed in business. 

27. And, as to friends and acquaintances; they 
will say nothing to you ; they will offer you indul- 
gences under their roofs ; but, the more ready you 
are to accept of their offers, and, in fact, the better 
taste you discover, the less they will like you, and 
the sooner they will find means of shaking you off; 
for, besides the cost which you occasion them, peo- 
ple do not like to have critics sitting in judgment 
on their bottles and dishes. Water-drinkers are 
universally laughed at ; but, it has always seemed 
to me, that they are amongst the most welcome of 
guests, and that, too, though the host be by no 
means of a niggardly turn. The truth is, they give 



22 cobbett's advice [Letter 

no trouble ; they occasion no anxiety to please them ; 
they are sure not to make their sittings inconvenient- 
ly long; and, which is the great thing of all, their 
example teaches moderation to the rest of the com- 
pany. Your notorious " lovers of good cheer" are, 
on the contrary, not to be invited without due reflec- 
tion: to entertain one of them is a serious business; 
and as people are not apt voluntarily to undertake 
such pieces of business, the well-known " lovers of 
good eating and drinking" are left, very generally, 
to enjoy it by themselves and at their own expense. 
28. But, all other considerations aside, health, the 
most valuable of all earthly possessions, and without 
which all the rest are worth nothing, bids us, not 
only to refrain from excess in eating and drinking, 
but bids us to stop short of what might be indulged 
in without any apparent impropriety. The words 
of Ecclesiasticus ought to be read once a week by 
every young person in the world, and particularly 
by the young people of this country at this time. 
" Eat modestly that which is set before thee, and de- 
vour not, lest thou be hated. When thou sittest 
amongst many, reach not thine hand out first of all. 
How little is sufficient for wan well taught ! A whole- 
some sleep cometh of a temperate belly. Such a 
man riseth up in the morning, and is well at ease 
with himself. Be not too hasty of meats ; for excess 
of meats bringeth sickness, and choleric disease 
cometh of gluttony. By surfeit have many perish- 
ed, and he that dieteth himself proton geth his life. 
Show not thy valiantness in wine; for wine hath 
destroyed many. Wine measurably taken, and in 
season, bringeth gladness and cheerfulness of mind; 
but drinking with excess maketh bitterness of mind, 
brawlings and scoldings." How true are these words ! 
How well worthy of a constant place in our memo- 
ries! Yet, what pains have been taken to apologise 
for a life contrary to these precepts ! And, good God ! 
what punishment can be too great, what mark of 
infamy sufficiently signal, for those pernicious vil- 
lains of talent, who have employed that talent in the 



l.J TO A YOUTH. 23 

composition of Bacchanalian songs ; that is to say, 
pieces of fine and captivating writing in praise of 
one of the most odious and destructive vices in the 
black catalogue of human depravity ! 

29. In the passage which I have just quoted from 
chap. xxxi. of Ecclesiasticus, it is said, that " wine, 
measureably taken, and in season? is a proper thing. 
This, and other such passages of the Old Testament, 
have given a handle to drunkards, and to extrava- 
gant people, to insist, that God intended that wine 
should be commonly drunk. No doubt of that. But, 
then, he could intend this only in countries in which 
he had given wine, and to which he had given no 
cheaper drink except water. If it be said, as it truly 
may, that, by the means of the sea and the winds, 
he has given wine to all countries, I answer that this 
gift is of no use to us now, because our government 
steps in between the sea and the winds and us. For- 
merly, indeed, the case was different : and, here I am 
about to give you, incidentally, a piece of historical 
knowledge, which you will not have acquired from 
Hume, Goldsmith, or any other of the romancers 
called historians. Before that unfortunate event, 
the Protestant Reformation, as it is called, took 
place, the price of red wine, in England, was four- 
pence a gallon, Winchester measure; and, of "white 
wine, sixpence a gallon. At the same time the pay 
of a labouring man per day, as fixed by law, was 
fourpence. Now, when a labouring man could earn 
four quarts of good wine in a day, it was, doubtless, 
allowable, even in England, for people in the middle 
rank of life to drink wine rather commonly ; and, 
therefore, in those happy days of England, these 
passages of Scripture were applicable enough. But^ 
now when we have got a Protestant government, 
which by the taxes which it makes people pay to it, 
causes the eighth part of a gallon of wine to cost 
more than the pay of a labouring man for a day ; 
now, this passage of Scripture is not applicable to 
us. There is no "season" in which we can take 
wine without ruining ourselves, however " measur- 



24 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ably" we may take it , and, I beg you to regard, as 
perverters of Scripture and as seducers of youth, all 
those who cite passages like that above cited, in jus- 
tification of, or as an apology for, the practice of 
wine drinking in England. 

30. I beseech you to look again and again at, and 
to remember every word of, the passage which I 
have just quoted from the book of Ecclesiasticus. 
How completely have been, and are, its words verifi- 
ed by my experience and in my person ! How little 
of eating and drinking is sufficient for me! How 
wholesome is my sleep ! How early do I rise ; and 
how "well at ease" am I " with myself!" I should 
not have deserved such blessings, if I had withheld 
from my neighbours a knowledge of the means by 
which they were obtained ; and, therefore, this know- 
ledge I have been in the constant habit of communi- 
cating. When one gives a dinner to a company \ it 
is an extraordinary affair, and is intended, by sensi- 
ble men, for purposes other than those of eating and 
drinking. But, in general, in the every-day life, 
despicable are those who suffer any part of their 
happiness to depend upon what they have to eat or 
to drink, provided they have a sufficiency of whole- 
some food ; despicable is the man, and worse than 
despicable the youth, that would make any sacrifice, 
however small, whether of money, or of time, or of 
any thing else, in order to secure a dinner different 
from that which he would have had without such 
sacrifice. Who, what man, ever performed a great- 
er quantity of labour than I have performed ? What 
man ever did so much ? Now, in a great measure I 
owe my capability to perform this labour to my dis- 
regard of dainties. Being shut up two years in 
Newgate, with a fine on my head of a thousand 
pounds to the king, for having expressed my indig- 
nation at the flogging of Englishmen under a guard 
of German bayonets, I ate, during one whole year, 
one mutton chop every day. Being once in town, 
with one son (then a little boy) and a clerk, while 
my family was in the country, I had during some 



I.] TO A YOUTH. £5 

weeks, nothing but legs of mutton ; first day, leg of 
mutton boiled or roasted ; second, cold; third, hash- 
ed ; then, leg of mutton boiled. ; and so on. When 
I have been by myself, or nearly so, I have always 
proceeded thus : given directions for having every 
day the same things or alternately as above, and every 
day exactly at the same hour, so as to prevent the 
necessity of any talk about the matter. I am cer- 
tain that, upon an average, I have not, during my 
life, spent more than thirty-Jive minutes a day at ta- 
ble, including all the meals of the day. I like, and 
I take care to have, good and clean victuals ; but, if 
wholesome and clean, that is enough. If I find it, 
by chance, too coarse for my appetite, I put the food 
aside, or let somebody do it, and leave the appetite 
to gather keenness. But, the great security of all 
is, to eat Utile, and to drink nothing that intoxicates. 
He that eats till he is full is little better than a beast ; 
and he that drinks till he is drunk is quite a beast. 

31. Before I dismiss this affair of eating and 
drinking, let me beseech you to resolve to free your- 
selves from the slavery of the tea and coffee and other 
slop-kettle, if, unhappily, you have been bred up in 
such slavery. Experience has taught me, that those 
slops are injurious to health ; until I left them off 
(having taken to them at the age of 26,) even my 
habits of sobriety, moderate eating, early rising"; 
even these were not, until I left off the slops, suffi- 
cient to give me that complete health which I have 
since had. I pretend not to be a " doctor ;" but, I 
assert, that to pour regularly, every day, a pint or 
two of warm liquid matter down the throat, 
whether under the name of tea, coffee, soup, grog, or 
whatever else, is greatly injurious to health. How- 
ever, at present, what I have to represent to you is 
the great deduction,which the use of these slops makes, 
from your power of being useful, and also from 
your power to husband your income, whatever it may 
be, and from whatever source arising. I am to sup- 
pose you to be desirous to become a clever, and a 
useful man ; a man to be, if not admired and revered, 
3 



26 cobbett's advice [Letter 

at least to be respected. In order to merit respect 
beyond that which is due to very common men, you 
must do something more than very common men ; 
and I am now going to show you how your course 
must be impeded by the use of the slops. 

32. If the women exclaim, " Nonsense ! come 
and take a cup," take it for that once ; but, hear 
what I have to say. In answer to my representa- 
tion regarding the waste of time which is occasioned 
by the slops, it has been said, that let what maybe 
the nature of the food, there must be time for taking 
it. Not so much time, however, to eat a bit of meat 
or cheese or butter with a bit of bread. But, these 
may be eaten in a shop, a warehouse, a factory, far 
from any fire, and even in a carriage on the road. 
The slops absolutely demand^reand a congregation; 
so that, be your business what it may ; be you shop- 
keeper, farmer, drover, sportsman, traveller, to the 
slop-board you must come ; you must wait for its 
assembling, or start from home without your break- 
fast ; and, being used to the warm liquid, you feel 
out of order for the want of it. If the slops were in 
fashion amongst ploughmen and carters, we must 
all be starved ; for the food could never be raised. 
The mechanics are half-ruined by them. Many of 
them are become poor, enervated creatures ; and 
chiefly from this cause. But is the positive cost 
nothing 1 At boarding-schools, an additional price 
is given on account of the tea slops. Suppose you 
to be a clerk, in hired lodgings, and going to your 
counting-house at nine o'clock. You get your din- 
ner, perhaps, near to the scene of your work ; but 
how are you to have the breakfast slops without a 
servant ? Perhaps you find a lodging just to suit you, 
but the house is occupied by people who keep no ser- 
vants, and you want a servant to light a fire and get 
the slop ready. You could get this lodging for 
several shillings a week less than another at the 
next door ; but there they keep a servant, who will 
"get y° u your breakfast," and preserve you, benevo- 
lent creature as she is, from the cruel necessity of 



I. I TO A YOUTH. 27 

going to the cupboard and cutting off a slice of meat 
or cheese and a bit of bread. She will, most likely, 
toast your bread for you, too, and melt your butter ; 
and then muffle you up, in winter, and send you out 
almost swaddled. Really such a thing can hardly be 
expected ever to become a -man. Y ou are weak ; 
you have delicate health; you are " bilious /" Why, 
my good fellow, it is these very slops that make you 
weak and bilious ; and, indeed, the -poverty, the real 
poverty, that they and their concomitants bring on 
you, greatly assists, in more ways than one, in pro- 
ducing your " delicate health." 
33. 80 much for indulgences in eating, drinking 
and dress. Next, as to amusements, it is recorded, 
of the famous Alfred that he devoted eight hours of 
the twenty-four to labour, eight to i-est, and eight to 
recreation. He was, however, a king] and could be 
thinking during the eight hours of recreation. It is 
certain, that there ought to be hours of recreation, 
and I do not know that eight are too many ; but, then 
observe, those hours ought to be well chosen, and the 
sort of recreation ought to be attended to. It ought 
to be such as is at once innocent in itself and in 
its tendency, and not injurious to health. The sports 
of the field are the best of all, because they are 
conducive to health, because they are enjoyed by 
day-light, and because they demand early rising. 
The nearer that other amusements approach to these, 
the better they are. A town-life, which many per- 
sons are compelled, by the nature of their calling, to 
lead, precludes the possibility of pursuing amuse- 
ments of this description to any very considerable 
extent ; and young men in towns are, generally 
speaking, compelled to choose between books on the 
one hand, or gaming and the play-house on the other. 
Dancing is at once rational and healthful : it gives 
animal spirits : it is the natural amusement of young 
people, and such it has been from the days of Moses : 
it is enjoyed in numerous companies : it makes the 
parties to be pleased with themselves and with 
all about them : it has no tendency to excite base and 



28 cobbett's advice [Letter 

malignant feelings ; and none but the most grovel- 
ling and hateful tyranny, or the most stupid and 
despicable fanaticism, ever raised its voice against it. 
The bad modern habits of England have created one 
inconvenience attending the enjoyment of this 
healthy and innocent pastime ; namely, late hours, 
which are at once injurious to health and destructive 
of order and of industry. In other countries people 
dance by clay-light. Here they do not; and, there- 
fore, you must, in this respect, submit to the custom, 
though not without robbing the dancing night of as 
many hours as you can. 

34. As to Gaming, it is always criminal, either in 
itself, or in its tendency. The basis of it is covetous- 
ness ; a desire to take from, others something, for 
which you have given, and intend to give, no equiva- 
lent. No gambler was ever yet a happy man, and 
very few gamblers have escaped being miserable; 
and, observe, to game for nothing is still gaming, and 
naturally leads to gaming for something. It is sa- 
crificing time, and that, too, for the worst of pur- 
poses. I have kept house for nearly forty years ; I 
have reared a family ; I have entertained as many 
friends as most people ; and I have never had 
cards, dice, a chess-board, nor any implement 
of gaming, under my roof. The hours that young 
men spend in this way are hours murdered 3 
precious hours, that ought to be spent either 
in reading or in writing, or in rest, preparatory to 
the duties* of the dawn. Though I do not agree with 
the base and nauseous flatterers, who now declare 
the army to be the best school for statesmen, it is cer- 
tainly a school in which to learn experimentally 
many useful lessons ; and, in this school I learned, 
that men, fond of gaming, are very rarely, if ever 
trust-worthy. I have known many a clever man 
rejected in the way of promotion only because he 
was addicted to gaming. Men, in that state of life, 
cannot rtcin themselves by gaming, for they possess 
no fortune, nor money ; but the taste for gaming is 
always regarded as an indication of a radically bad 



k.j TO A YOUTH. 29 

disposition ; and I can truly say, that I never in my 
whole life knew a man, fond of gaming, who was not, 
in some way or other, a person unworthy of confi- 
dence. This vice creeps on by very slow degrees, 
till, at last, it becomes an ungovernable passion, 
swallowing up every good and kind feeling of the 
heart. The gambler, as pourtrayed by Regnard, in 
a comedy the translation of which into English re- 
sembles the original much about as nearly as Sir 
James Graham's plagiarisms resembled the Registers 
on which they had been committed, is a fine instance 
of the contempt and scorn to which gaming, at last, 
reduces its votaries ; but, if any young man be en- 
gaged in this fatal career, and be not yet wholly lost, 
let him behold Hogarth's gambler just when he has 
made his last throw, and when disappointment has 
bereft him of his senses. If after this sight, he re- 
main obdurate, he is doomed to be a disgrace to his 
name. 

35. The Theatre may be a source not only of 
amusement but also of instruction ; but, as things 
now are in this country, what, that is not bad, is to 
be learned in this school ? In the first place not a 
word is allowed to be uttered on the stage, which has 
not been previously approved of by the Lord Cham- 
berlain ; that is to say, by a person appointed by the 
Ministry, who, at his pleasure allows, or disallows, 
of any piece, or any words in a piece, submitted to his 
inspection. In short, those who go to play-houses, 
'pay their money to hear uttered such words as the 
government approve of, and no others. It is now just 
twenty-six years since I first well understood how 
this matter was managed ; and, from that moment 
to this, I have never been in an English play-house. 
Besides this, the meanness, the abject servility, of 
the players, and the slavish conduct of the audience, 
are sufficient to corrupt and debase the heart of any 
young man, who is a frequent beholder of them. 
Homage is here paid to every one clothed with 
power, be he who or what he may ; real virtue and 
public-spirit are subjects of ridicule; and mock-sen- 
3* 



30 cobbett's advice [Letter 

timent and mock-liberality and mock-loyalty are 
applauded to the skies. 

36. " Show me a man's companions," says the pro- 
verb; " and I will tell you what the man is ;" and this is. 
and must be true ; because all men seek the society of 
those who think and act somewhat like themselves ; 
sober men will not associate with drunkards, frugal 
men will not like spendthrifts, and the orderly and 
decent shun the noisy, the disorderly, and the de- 
bauched. It is for the very vulgar to herd together 
as singers, ringers and smokers ; but, there is a class 
rather higher still more blameable ; I mean the ta- 
vern-haunters, the gay companions, who herd to- 
gether to do little but talk, and who are so fond of 
talk that they go from home to get at it. The con- 
versation amongst such persons has nothing of in- 
struction in it, and is generally of a vicious tendency. 
Young people naturally and commendably seek 
the society of those of their own age ; but, be care- 
ful in choosing your companions ; and lay this 
down as a rule never to be departed from, that no 
youth, nor man, ought to be called y our friend, who 
is addicted to indecent talk, or who is fond of the 
society of prostitutes. Either of these argues a de- 
praved taste, and even a depraved heart ; an absence 
of all principle and of all trust-worthiness ; and, I 
have remarked it all my life long, that young men, 
addicted to these vices, never succeed in the end, 
whatever advantages they may have, whether in for- 
tune or in talent. Fond mothers and fathers are but 
too apt to be over-lenient to such offenders ; and, as 
long as youth lasts and fortune smiles, the punish- 
ment is deferred ; but, it comes at last ; it is sure to 
come ; and the ga}^, and dissolute youth is a dejected 
and miserable man. After the early part of a life spent 
in illicit indulgences, a man is unworthy of being the 
husband of a virtuous woman ; and, if he have any 
thing like justice in him, how is he to reprove, in his 
children, vices in which he himself so long indulged ? 
These vices of youth are varnished over by the say- 
ing, that there must be time for " sowing the wild 



LJ TO A YOOTH. 31 

oats," and that " wildest colts make the best horses." 
These figurative oats are, however, generally like 
the literal ones ; they are never to be eradicated from 
the soil ; and as to the colts, wildness in them is an 
indication of high animal spirit, having nothing at 
all to do with the mind, which is invariably debilita- 
ted and debased by profligate indulgences. Yet thi 
miserable piece of sophistry, the offspring of paren- 
tal weakness, is in constant use, to the incalculable 
injury of the rising generation. What so amiable 
as a steady, trust-worthy boy 1 He is of real use 
at an early age : he can be trusted far out of the 
sight of parent or employer, while the " pickle," as 
the poor fond parents call the profligate, is a great 
deal worse than useless, because there must be some 
one to see that he does no harm. If you have to 
choose, choose companions of your own rank in life 
as nearly as may be ; but, at any rate, none to whom 
you acknowledge inferiority ; for, slavery is too soon 
learned ; and, if the mind be bowed down in the 
youth, it will seldom rise up in the man. In the 
schools of those best of teachers, the Jesuits, there 
is perfect equality as to rank in life ; the boy, who 
enters there, leaves all family pride behind him: 
intrinsic merit alone is the standard of preference ; 
and the masters are so scrupulous upon this head, 
that they do not suffer one scholar, of whatever 
rank, to have more money jo spend than the poorest. 
These wise men know well the mischiefs that must 
arise from inequality of pecuniary means amongst 
their scholars : they know how injurious it woul 
be to learning, if deference were, by the learned, 
paid to the dunce; and they, therefore, take the 
most effectual means to prevent it. Hence, amongst 
other causes, it is, that their scholars have, ever 
since the existence of their Order, been the most 
celebrated for learning of any men in the world. 

37. In your manners be neither boorish nor blunt, 
but, even these are preferable to simpering and 
crawling. I wish every English youth could see 
those of the United States of America ; always civil. 



32 cobbett's advice [Letter 

never servile. Be obedient, where obedience is due ; 
for, it is no act of meanness, and no indication of 
want of spirit, to yield implicit and ready obedience 
to those who have a right to demand it at your 
hands. In this respect England has been, and, I 
hope, always will be, an example to the whole 
world. To this habit of willing and prompt obedi- 
ence in apprentices, in servants, in all inferiors in 
station, she owes, in a great measure, her multitudes 
of matchless merchants, tradesmen, and workmen 
of every description, and also the achievements of 
her armies and navies. It is no disgrace, but the 
contrary, to obey, cheerfully, lawful and just com- 
mands. None are so saucy and disobedient as 
slaves ; and, when you come to read history, you 
will find that in proportion as nations have been 
free has been their reverence for the laws. But ? 
there is a wide difference between lawful and cheer- 
ful obedience and that servility which represents 
people as laying petitions " at the king's feet" which 
makes us imagine that we behold the supplicants 
actually crawling upon their bellies. There is some- 
thing so abject in this expression - 7 there is such hor- 
rible self-abasement in it, that I do hope that every 
youth, who shall read this, will hold in detestation 
the reptiles who make use of it. In all other coun- 
tries, the lowest individual can put a petition into the 
hands of the chief magistrate, be he king or empe- 
ror ; let us hope, that the time will yet come when* 
Englishmen will be able to do the same. In the 
meanwhile I beg you to despise these worse than 
pagan parasites. 

38. Hitherto I have addressed you chiefly relative 
to the things to be avoided : let me now turn to the 
things which you ought to do. And, first of all, the 
husbanding of your time. The respect that you will 
receive, the real and sincere respect, will depend en- 
tirely on what you are able to do. If you be rich r 
you may purchase what is called respect ; but, it is 
not worth having. To obtain respect worth possess- 
ing you must, as I observed before, do more than? 



1. 1 TO A YOUTH. 33 

the common run of men in your state of life ; and, 
to be enabled to do this, you must manage well your 
time: and, to manage it well, you must have as 
much of the day-light and as little of the candle- 
light as is consistent with the due discharge of your 
duties. When people get into the habit of sitting 
up merely for the purpose of talking, it is no easy 
matter to break themselves of it ; and if they do not 
go to bed early, they cannot rise early. Young 
people require more sleep than ; those that are grown 
up : there must be the number of hours, and that 
number cannot well be, on an average, less than 
eight : and, if it be more in winter time, it is all the 
better ; for, an hour in bed is better than an hour 
spent over fire and candle in an idle gossip. People 
never should sit talking till they do not know what 
to talk about. It is said by the country-people, that 
one hour's sleep before midnight is worth more than 
two are worth after midnight, and this I believe to be 
a fact ; but, it is useless to go to bed early and even to 
rise early, if the time be not well employed after 
rising. In general, half the morning is loitered away, 
the party being in a sort of half-dressed half-naked 
state ; out of bed, indeed, but still in a sort of bed- 
din g. Th ose who first invented morning-gowns and 
slippers could have very little else to do. These 
things are very suitable to those who have had for- 
tunes gained for them by others : very suitable to 
those who have nothing to do, and who merely live 
for the purpose of assisting to consume the produce 
of the earth; but, he who has his bread to earn, or 
who means to be worthy of respect on account of 
his labours, has no business with morning gown ' 
and slippers. In short, be your business or calling 
what it may, dress at once for the day; and learn to 
do it as quickly as possible. A looking-glass is a 
piece of furniture a great deal worse than useless. 
Looking at the face will not alter its shape or its 
colour ; and, perhaps, of all wasted time, none is so 
foolishly wasted as that which is employed in sur- 
veying one's own face. Nothing can be of little im- 



34 cobbett's advice [Letter 

portance, if one be compelled to attend to it every 
day of our lives: if we shaved but once a year, or 
once a month, the execution of the thing would be 
hardly worth naming : but, this rs a piece of work 
that must be done once every day ; and, as it may 
cost only about Jive minutes of time, and may be r 
and frequently is, made to cost thirty, or even fifty 
minutes ; and, as only fifteen minutes make about a 
fifty-eighth part of the hours of our average day- 
light ; this being the case, this is a matter of real 
importance. I once heard Sir John Sinclair ask 
Mr. Cochrane Johnstone, whether he meaned to 
have a son of his (then a little boy) taught Latin ? 
" No," said Mr. Johnstone, " but I mean to do some- 
thing a great deal better for him." " What is that?" 
said Sir John. "Why," said the other, " teach him 
to shave with cold water and without a glass." Wh ich ? 
I dare say, he did ; and, for which benefit, I am sure 
that son has had good reason to be grateful. Only 
think of the inconvenience attending the common 
practice! There must be hot water ; to have this 
there must be a fire, and, in some cases, a fire for 
that purpose alone; to have these, there must be a 
servant, or you must light a fire 3^ourself. For the 
want of these, the job is put off until a later hour : 
this causes a stripping and another dressing bout ; 
or, you go in a slovenly state all that day, and the 
next day the thing must be done, or cleanliness must 
be abandoned altogether. If you be on a journey 
you must wait the pleasure of the servants at the 
inn before you can dress and set out in the morning; 
the pleasant time for travelling is gone before you 
can move from the spot ; instead of being at the end 
of your day's journey in good time, you are benight- 
ed, and have to endure all the great inconveniences 
attendant on tardy movements. And, all this, from 
the apparently insignificant affair of shaving I How 
many a piece of important business has failed from 
a short delay I And how many thousand of such 
delays daily proceed from this unworthy cause t 
" Toujours pret" was the motto of a famous Fieneh 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 35 

general ; and, pray, let it be yours : be " always ready? 
and never, during your whole life, have to say, 
4{ / cannot go till I be shaved and dressed" Do the 
whole at once for the day, whatever may be your 
state of life; and then you have a day unbroken by 
those indispensable performances. Begin thus, in 
the days of your youth, and, having felt the supe- 
riority which this practice will give you over those 
in all other respects your equals, the practice will 
stick by you to the end of your life. Till you be 
shaved and dressed for the day, you cannot set stea- 
dily about any business ; you know that you must 
presently quit your labour to return to the dressing 
affair ; you, therefore, put it off until that be over ; 
the interval, the precious interval, is spent in loung- 
ing about; and, by the time that you are ready for 
business, the best part of the day is gone. 

39. Trifling as this matter appears upon naming 
it, it is, in fact, one of the great concerns of life; and, 
for my part, I can truly say, that I owe more of my 
great labours to my strict adherence to the precepts 
that I have here given you, than to all the natural 
abilities with which I have been endowed ; for these, 
whatever may have been their amount, would have 
been of comparatively little use, even aided by great 
sobriety and abstinence, if I had not, in early life, 
contracted the blessed habit of husbanding well my 
time. To this, more than to any other thing, I owed 
my very extraordinary promotion in the army. I 
was always ready : if I had to mount guard at ten, 
I was ready at nine: never did any man, or any 
thing, wait one moment for me. Being, at an age 
under twenty years, raised from Corporal to Sergeant 
Major at once, over the heads of thirty sergeants, I 
naturally should have been an object of envy and 
hatred ; but this habit of early rising and of rigid 
adherence to the precepts which I have given you, 
really subdued these passions ; because every one 
felt, that what I did he had never done, and never 
could do. Before my promotion, a clerk was want- 
ed to make out the morning report of the regiment. 



36 cobbett's advice [Letter 

I rendered the clerk unnecessary ; and, long before 
any other man was dressed for the parade, my work 
for the morning was all done, and I myself was on 
the parade, walking, in fine weather, for an hour 
perhaps. My custom was this : to get up, in sum- 
mer, at day-light, and in winter at four o'clock ; 
shave, dress, even to the putting of my sword-belt 
over my shoulder, and having my sword lying on 
the table before me, ready to hang by my side. Then 
I ate a bit of cheese, or pork, and bread. Then I 
prepared my report, which was filled up as fast as 
the companies brought me in the materials. After 
this I had an hour or two to read, before the time 
came fo* any duty out of doors, unless when the 
regiment or part of it went out to exercise in the 
morning. When this was the case, and the matter 
was left to me, I always had it on the ground in 
such time as that the bayonets glistened in the ri- 
sing sun, a sight which gave me delight, of which I 
often think, but which I should in vain endeavour to 
describe. If the officers were to go out, eight or ten 
o'clock was the hour, sweating the men in the heat 
of the day, breaking in upon the time for cooking 
their dinner, putting all things out of order, and all 
men out of humour. When I was commander, the 
men had a long day of leisure before them : they 
could ramble into the town or into the woods ; go 
to get raspberries, to catch birds, to catch fish, or to 
pursue any other recreation, and such of them as 
chose, and were qualified, to work at their trades. 
So that here, arising solely from the early habits of 
one very young man, were pleasant and happy days 
given to hundreds. 

40. Money is said to be power, which is, in some 
cases, true ; and the same may be said of knowledge ; 
but superior sobriety, industry and activity, are a still 
more certain source of power ; for without these, 
knowledge is of little use; and, as to the power 
which money gives, it is that of brute force, it is the 
power of the bludgeon and the bayonet, and of the 
bribed press, tongue and pen, Superior sobriety, 



I ] TO A YOUTH. 37 

industry, activity, though accompanied with but a 
moderate portion of knowledge, command respect, 
because they have great and visible influence. The 
drunken, the lazy, and the inert, stand abashed be- 
fore the sober and the active. Besides, all those 
whose interests are at stake prefer, of necessity, those 
whose exertions produce the greatest and most im- 
mediate and visible effect. Self-interest is no respec- 
ter of persons : it asks, not who knows best what 
ought to be done, but who is most likely to do it : 
we may, and often do, admire the talents of lazy and 
even dissipated men, but we do not trust them with 
the care of our interests. If, therefore, you would 
have respect and influence in the circle in which 
you move, be more sober, more industrious, more 
active than the general run of those amongst whom 
you live. 

41. As to Education, this word is now applied 
exclusively to things which are taught in schools ; 
but, education means rearing up, and the French 
speak of the education of pigs and sheep). In a very 
famous French book on rural affairs, there is a Chap- 
ter entitled " Education du cochon ;" that is, educa- 
tion of the hog. The word has the same meaning in 
both languages ; for, both take it from the Latin. 
Neither is the word learning properly confined to 
things taught in schools, or by books ; for, learning 
means knowledge ; and, but a comparatively small 
part of useful knowledge comes from books". Men 
are not to be called ignorant merely because they 
cannot make upon paper certain marks with a pen, 
or because they do not know the meaning of such 
marks when made by others. A ploughman may be 
very learned in his line, though he does not know 
what the letters p. I. o. u. g. h mean when he sees 
them combined upon paper. The first thing to be 
required of a man is, that he understand well his 
own calling, or profession ; and, be you in what state 
of life you may, to acquire this knowledge ought to 
be your first and greatest care. A man who has had 
a new-built house tumble down, will derive little 



38 cobbett'3 advice [Letter 

more consolation from being told that the architect 
is a great astronomer, than this distressed nation 
now derives from being assured that its distresses 
arise from the measures of a long list of the greatest 
orators and greatest heroes that the world ever be- 
held. 

42. Nevertheless, book-learning is by no means to 
be despised ; and it is a thing which may be laudably 
sought after by persons in all states of life. In those 
pursuits which are called professiwis, it is necessary, 
and also, in certain trades ; and, in persons in the 
middle ranks of life, a total absence of such learning 
is somewhat disgraceful. There is, however, one 
danger to be carefully guarded against ; namely, the 
opinion, that your genius, or your literary acquire- 
ments, are such as to warrant you in disregarding 
the calling in which you are, and by which you gain 
your bread. Parents must have an uncommon por- 
tion of solid sense to counterbalance their natural 
affection sufficiently to make them competent judges 
in such a case. Friends are partial ; and those who 
are not, you deem enemies. Stick, therefore, to the 
shop ; rely upon your mercantile or mechanical or 
professional calling; try your strength in literature, 
if you like ; but, rely on the shop. If Bloomfield, 
who wrote a poem called the Farmer's Boy, had 
placed no reliance on the faithless muses, his unfor- 
tunate and much to be pitied family would, in all 
probability, have not been in a state to solicit relief 
from charity. I remember that this loyal shoema- 
ker was flattered to the skies, and (ominous sign, if 
he had understood it) feasted at the tables of some 
of the great. Have, I beseech you, no hope of this 
sort : and, if you find it creeping towards your heart, 
drive it instantly away as the mortal foe of your 
independence and your peace. 

43. With this precaution, however, book-learning 
is not only proper, but highly commendable ; and 
portions of it are absolutely necessary in every case 
of trade or profession. One of these portions is dis- 
tinct reading, plain and neat writing, dxi&arithwstic. 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 39 

The two former are mere child's work ; the latter 
not quite so easily acquired, but equally indispen- 
sable, and of it you ought to have a thorough know- 
ledge before you attempt to study even the gram- 
mar of your own language. Arithmetic is soon learn 
ed ; it is not a thing that requires much natural ta- 
lent ; it is not a thing that loads the memory or 
puzzles the mind; and, it is a thing of every day 
utility. Therefore, this is, to a certain extent, an 
absolute necessary; an indispensable acquisition. 
Every man is not to be a surveyor' or an actuary ; 
and, therefore, you may stop far short of the know- 
ledge, of this sort, which is demanded by these pro- 
fessions ; but, as far as common accounts and calcu- 
lations go, you ought to be perfect ; and this you may 
make yourself, without any assistance from a mas- 
ter, by bestowing upon this science, during six 
months, only one half of the time that is, by per- 
sons of your age, usually wasted over the tea-slops, 
or other kettle-slops, alone! If you become fond 
of this science, there may be a little danger of 
wasting your time on it. When, therefore, you have 
got as much of it as your business or profession can 
possibly render necessary, turn the time to some 
other purpose. As to books, on this subject, they 
are in every body's hand ; but, there is one book on 
the subject of calculations, which I must point out 
to you ; " The Cambist," by Dr. Kelly. This is a 
bad title, because, to men in general, it gives no idea 
of what the book treats of. It is a book, which shows 
the value of the several pieces of money of one 
country when stated in the money of another coun- 
try. For instance, it tells us what a Spanish Dollar, 
a Dutch Dollar, a French Franc, and so on, is worth 
in English money. It does the same with regard to 
weights and measures: and it extends its information 
to all the countries in the world. It is a work of rare 
merit ; and every youth, be his state of life what it 
may, if it permit him to pursue book-learning of any 
sort, and particularly if he be destined, or at all like- 
iy to meddle with commercial matters, ought, as soon 



40 cobbett's advice [Letter 

as convenient, to possess this valuable and instruc- 
tive book. 

44. The next thing is the Grammar of your own 
language. Without understanding this, you can 
never hope to become fit for any thing beyond mere 
trade or agriculture. It is true, that we do (God 
knows !) but too often see men have great wealth, 
high titles, and boundless power heaped upon them, 
who can hardly write ten lines together correctly ; 
but, remember, it is not merit that has been the cause 
of their advancement ; the cause has been, in almost 
every such case, the subserviency of the party to the 
will of some government, and the baseness of some 
nation who have quietly submitted to be governed by 
brazen fools. Do not you imagine, that you will 
have luck of this sort : do not you hope to be re- 
warded and honoured for that ignorance which shall 
prove a scourge to your country, and which will earn 
you the curses of the children yet unborn. Rely you 
upon your merit, and upon nothing else. Without 
a knowledge of grammar, it is impossible for you to 
write correctly, and, it is by mere accident if you 
speak correctly ; and, pray bear in mind, that all 
well-informed persons judge of a man's mind (until 
they have other means of judging) by his writing or 
speaking. The labour necessary to acquire this 
knowledge is, indeed, not trifling: grammar is not, 
like arithmetic, a science consisting of several dis- 
tinct departments, some of which may be dispensed 
with: it is a whole, and the whole must be learned, 
or, no part is learned. The subject is abstruse: it 
demands much reflection and much patience : but, 
when once the task is performed, it is performed^br 
life, and in every da}^ of that life it will be found to 
be, in a greater or less degree, a source of pleasure 
or of profit or of both together. And, what is 
the labour ? It consists of no bodily exertion ; it 
exposes the student to no cold, no hunger, no suffer- 
ings of any sort. The study need subtract from 
the hours of no business, nor, indeed, from the hours 
of necessary exercise : the hours usually spent on 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 41 

the tea and coffee slops and in the mere gossip which 
accompany them ; those wasted hours of only one 
year, employed in the study of English grammar, 
would make you a correct speaker and writer for the 
rest of your life. You want no school, no room to 
study in, no expenses, and no troublesome circum- 
stances of any sort. I learned grammar when I was 
a private soldier on the pay of sixpence a day. The 
edge of my berth, or that of the guard-bed, was mjr 
seat to study in ; my knapsack was my book-case ; 
abii of board, lying on my lap, was my writing-table; 
and the task did not demand any thing like a year of 
my life. I had no money to purchase candle or oil; 
in winter-time it was rarely that I could get any even- 
ing-light but that of the fire, and only my turn even 
of that. And, if I, under such circumstances, and 
without parent or friend to advise or encourage me, 
accomplished this undertaking, what excuse can 
there be for any youth, however poor, however press- 
ed with business, or however circumstanced as to 
room or other conveniences? To buy a pen or a 
she ft of paper I was compelled to forego some por- 
tion of food, though in a state of half starvation ; 
I had no moment of time that I could call my own; 
and I had to read and to write amidst the talking, 
laughing, singing, whistling and brawling of at least 
half a score of the most thoughtless of men, and 
that, too, in the hours of their freedom from all 
control. Think not lightly of the farthing that I had 
to give, npw and then, for ink, pen, or paper ! That 
farthing was, alas 1 a great sum to me ! I was as tal 
as I am now ; I had great health and great exercise. 
The whole of the money, not expended for us at 
market, was two-pence a week for each man. I re- 
member, and well I may ! that, upon one occasion I, 
after all absolutely necessary expenses, had, on a 
Friday, made shift to have a'half-penny in reserve, 
which I had destined for the purchase of a red-her- 
ring in the morning; but, when I pulled off my 
clothes at night, so hungry then as to be hardly able 
to endure life, I found that I had lost my half-fenny ! 



42 cobbett's advice [Letter 

I buried my head under the miserable sheet and rug, 
and cried like a child ! And, again I say, if I, under 
circumstances like these, could encounter and over- 
come this task, is there, can there be, in the whole 
world, a youth to find an excuse for the non-per- 
formance? What youth, who shall read this, will 
not be ashamed to say, that he is not able to find 
time and opportunity for this most essential of all the 
branches of book-learning ? 

45. I press this matter with such earnestness, be- 
cause a knowledge of grammar is the foundation of 
all literature ; and because without this knowledge 
opportunities for writing and speaking are only oc- 
casions for men to display their unfitness to write 
and speak. How many false pretenders to erudition 
have I exposed to shame merely by my knowledge 
of grammar ! How many of the insolent and igno- 
rant great and powerful have I pulled down and 
made little and despicable ! And, with what ease 
have I conveyed upon numerous important subjects^ 
information and instruction to millions now alive, 
and provided a store of both for millions yet unborn ! 
As to the course to be pursued in this great under- 
taking, it is, first, to read the grammar from the first 
word to the last, very attentively, several times over ; 
then, to copy the whole of it \ 7 ery correctly and 
neatly ; and then to study the Chapters one by one. 
And what does this reading and writing require as 
to time ? Both together not more than the tea-slops 
and their gossips for three months ! There are about 
three hundred pages in my English Grammar. Four 
of those little pages in a day, which is a mere trifle 
of work, do the thing in three months. Two hours 
a day are quite sufficient for the purpose ; and these 
may, in any town that I have ever known, or in any 
village, be taken from that part of the morning du- 
ring which the main part of the people are in bed, 
I do not like the evening-candle-light work : it wears 
the eyes much more than the same sort of light in 
the morning, because then the faculties are in vigou? 
and wholly unexhausted. But for this purpose there 



L] TO A YOUTH. 43 

is sufficient of that day-light which is usually wast- 
ed ; usually gossipped or lounged away; or spent 
in some other manner productive of no pleasure, 
and generally producing pain in the end. It is very 
becoming in all persons, and particularly in the 
young, to be civil and even polite : but, it becomes 
neither young nor old to have an everlasting simper 
on their faces, and their bodies sawing in an ever- 
lasting bow: and, how many youths have I seen 
who, if they had spent, in the learning of grammar, 
a tenth part of the time that they have consumed in 
earning merited contempt for their affected gentility, 
would have laid the foundation of sincere respect 
towards them for the whole of their lives ! 

46. Perseverance is a prime quality in every pur- 
suit, and particularly in this. Yours is, too, the 
time of life to acquire this inestimable habit. Men 
fail much oftener from want of perseverance than 
from want of talent and of good disposition : as the 
race was not to the hare but to the tortoise ; so the 
meed of success in study is to him who is not in 
haste, but to him who proceeds with a steady and 
even step. It is not to a want of taste or of desire 
or of disposition to learn that we have to ascribe the 
rareness of good scholars, so much as to the want 
of patient perseverance. Grammar is a branch of 
knowledge, like all other things of high value, it is 
of difficult acquirement: the study is dry; the sub- 
ject is intricate; it engages not the passions; and, if 
the great end be not kept constantly in view ; if you 
lose, for a moment, sight of the ample reward^ in- 
difference begins, that is followed by weariness, and 
disgust and despair close the book. To guard against 
this result be not in haste; keep steadily on; and, 
when you find weariness approaching, rouse your- 
self, and remember, that, if you give up, all that you 
have done has been done in vain. This is a matter 
of great moment ; for out of every ten, who under- 
take this task, there are, perhaps, nine who abandon 
it in despair ; and this, too, merely for the want of 
resolution to overcome the first approaches of wea- 



44 cobbett's advice [Letter 

riness. The most effectual means of security against 
this mortifying result is to lay down a rule to write 
or to read a certain fixed quantity every day, Sunday 
excepted. Our minds are not always in the same 
state ; they have not, at all times, the same elastici- 
ty ; to-day we are full of hope on the very same 
grounds, which, to-morrow, afford us no hope at 
all: every human being is liable to those flows and 
ebbs of the mind ; but, if reason interfere, and bid 
you overcome the Jits of lassitude, and almost me 
chanically to go on without the stimulus of hope, 
the buoyant fit speedily returns ; you congratulate 
yourself that you did not yield to the temptation to 
abandon your pursuit, and you proceed with more 
vigour than ever. Five or six triumphs over temp 
tation to indolence or despair lay the foundation of 
certain success ; and, what is of still more impor 
tance, fix in you the habit of per- severance. 

47. If I have bestowed a large portion of my space 
on this topic, it has been because I know, from ex 
perience as well as from observation, that it is of 
more importance than all the other branches of book- 
learning put together. It gives you, when you pos- 
sess it thoroughly, a real and practical superiority 
Over the far greater part of men. How often did J 
experience this even long before I became what is 
called an author ! The Adjutant, under whom it 
was my duty to act when I was a Sergeant Major, 
was, as almost all military officers are, or, at least 
were, a very illiterate man, perceiving that every 
sentence of mine was in the same form and manner 
as sentences in print, became shy of letting me see 
pieces of his writing. The writing of orders, and 
other things, therefore, fell to me ; and thus, though 
no nominal addition was made to my pay, and no 
nominal addition to my authority, I acquired the lat- 
ter as effectually as if a law had been passed to con- 
fer it upon me. In short, I owe to the possession 
of this branch of knowledge every thing that has 
enabled me to do so many things that very few other 
men have done, and that now gives me a degree of 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 45 

influence, such as is possessed by few others, in the 
most weighty concerns of the country. The pos- 
session of this branch of knowledge raises you in 
your own esteem, gives just confidence in yourself, 
and prevents you from being the willing slave of the 
rich and the titled part of the community. It enables 
you to discover that riches and titles do not confer 
merit ; you think comparatively little of them ; and, 
as far as relates to you, at any rate, their insolence is 
innoxious. 

48. Hoping that I have said enough to induce you 
to set resolutely about the study of grammar, I 
might here leave the subject of learning; arithme- 
tic and grammar, both well learned, being as much 
as I would wish in a mere youth. But these need 
not occupy the whole of your spare time ; and, there 
are other branches of learning which ought imme- 
diately to follow. If your own calling or profession 
require book-study, books treating of that are to be 
preferred to all others; for, the first thing, the first 
object in life, is to secure the honest means of ob- 
taining sustenance, raiment, and a state of being 
suitable to your rank, be that rank what it may ; ex- 
cellence in your own calling is, therefore, the first 
thing to be aimed at. After this may come general 
knowledge, and of this, the first is a thorough know- 
ledge of your own country ; for, how ridiculous is it 
to see an English youth engaged in reading about 
the customs of the Chinese, or of the Hindoos, while 
he is content to be totally ignorant of those of Kent 
or of Cornwall ! Well employed he must be in as- 
certaining how Greece was divided and how the Ro- 
mans parcelled out their territory, while he knows 
not, and, apparently, does not want to know, how 
England came to be divided into counties, hundreds, 
parishes and tithings. 

49. Geography naturally follows Grammar ; and, 
you should begin with that of this kingdom, which 
you ought to understand well, perfectly well, before 
you venture to look abroad. A rather slight know- 
ledge of the divisions and customs of other countries 



4C cobbett's advice (Letter 

is, generally speaking, sufficient ; but, not to know 
these full well, as far as relates to our own country, 
is, in one who pretends to be a gentleman or a scho- 
lar, somewhat disgraceful. Yet, how many men are 
there, and those called gentlemen too, who seem to 
think that counties and parishes, and churches and 
parsons, and tithes and glebes, and manors and 
courts-leet, and paupers and poor-houses, all grew 
up in England, or dropped down upon it, immedi- 
ately after Noah's flood ! Surely, it is necessary for 
every man, having any pretensions to scholarship, 
to know how these things came ; and, the sooner this 
knowledge is acquired the better ; for, until it be 
acquired you read the history of your country- in 
vain. Indeed, to communicate this knowledge is 
one main part of the business of history; but it is 
a part which no historian, commonly so called, has, 
that I know of, ever yet performed, except, in part, 
myself, in the History of the Protestant Refor- 
mation. I had read Hume's History of England and 
the Continuation by Smollett; but, in 1802, when 
I wanted to write on the subject of the non-residence 
of the clergy, I found, to my great mortification, that 
I knew nothing of the foundation of the office and 
the claims of the parsons, and that I could not even 
guess at the origin of parishes. This gave a new 
turn to my inquiries ; and I soon found the roman- 
cers, called historians, had given me no information 
that I could rely on, and, besides, had done, appa- 
rently, all they could to keep me in the dark. 

50. When you come to History, begin also with 
that of your own country ; and here it is my boun- 
den duty to put you well on your guard ; for, in this 
respect we are peculiarly unfortunate, and for the 
following reasons, to which I beg you to attend. 
Three hundred, years ago, the religion of England 
had been, during nine hundred years; the Catholic 
religion : the Catholic Clergy possessed about a third 
part of all the lands and houses, which they held in 
trust for their own support, for the building and re- 
pairing of 'churches, and for the relief of the poor, 



I.] TO A YOUTH. 



47 



the widow, the orphan and the stranger; but, at the 
time just mentioned, the king and the aristocracy 
Changed the religion to Protestant, took the estates 
of the church and the poor to themselves as their 
own property, and taxed the people at targe for the 
building and repairing of churches and for the relief 
of the poor. This great and terrible change, effect- 
ed partly by force against the people and partly by 
the most artful means of deception, gave rise to a 
series of efforts, which has been continued from that 
day to this, to cause us all to believe, that that change 
was for the better, that it was for our good ; and 
that, before that time, our forefathers were a set of 
the most miserable slaves that the sun ever warmed 
with his beams. It happened, too, that the art of 
printing was not discovered, or, at least, it was very 
little understood, until about the time when this 
change took place; so that the books relating to 
former times were confined to manuscript ; and, be- 
sides, even these manuscript libraries were destroy- 
ed with great care by those who had made the 
change and had grasped the property of the poor 
and the church. Our " Historians," as they are 
called, have written under fear of the powerful, or 
have been bribed by them ; and, generally speaking, 
both at the same time ; and, accordingly, their works 
are, as far as they relate to former times, masses of 
lies unmatched by any others that the world has 
ever seen. 

51. The great object of these lies always has been 
to make the main body of the people believe, that 
the nation is now more happy, more populous, more 
powerful, than it was before it was Protestant, and 
thereby to induce us to conclude, that it was a good 
thing for us that the aristocracy should take to 
themselves the property of the poor and the church, 
and make the people at large pay taxes for the sup- 
port of both. This has been, and still is, the great 
object of all those heaps of lies; and those lies are 
continually spread about amongst us in all forms of 
publication, from heavy folios down to half-penny 



48 cobbett's advice [Letter 

tracts. In refutation of those lies we have only very- 
few and rare ancient books to refer to, and their in- 
formation is incidental, seeing that their authors 
never dreamed of the possibility of the lying gene- 
rations which were to come. We have the ancient 
acts of parliament, the common-law, the customs, 
the canons of the church, and the churches them- 
selves ; but these demand analyses and argument^ 
and they demand also a really free press, and un- 
prejudiced and patient readers. Never in this world, 
before, had truth to struggle with so many and such 
great disadvantages ! 

52. To refute lies is not, at present, my business ; 
but it is my business to give you, in as small a com- 
pass as possible > one striking proof that they are 
lies ; and, thereby, to put you well upon your guard 
for the whole of the rest of your life. The opinion 
sedulously inculcated by these " historians" is this; 
that before the Protestant times came, England was, 
comparatively, an insignificant country, having few 
people in it, and those few wretchedly poor and mise- 
rable. Now, take the following undeniable facts. 
All the parishes in England are now (except where 
they have been united, and two, three, or four, have 
been made into one) in point of size, what they 
were a thousand years ago. The county of Norfolk 
is the best cultivated of any one in England. This 
county has now 731 parishes; and the number was 
formerly greater. Of these parishes, 22 have now 
no churches at all ; 74 contain less than 100 souls 
each : and 268 have no pai^sonage-houses. Now, 
observe, every parish had, in old times, a church and 
a parsonage-house. The county contains 2,092 
square miles ; that is to say, something less than 3 
square miles to each parish, and that is 1,920 statute 
acres of land ; and the size of each parish is, on an 
average, that of a piece of ground about one mile 
and a half each way ; so that the churches are, even 
now, on an average, only about a mile and a half 
from each other. Now, the questions for you to put 
to yourself are these : Were churches formerly built 



II.J TO A YOUNG MAN. 49 

and kept up without being wanted, and especially by 
a poor and miserable people ? ' Did these miserable 
people build 74 churches out of 731, each of which 
74 had not a hundred souls belonging to it? Is it a 
sign of an augmented population, that 22 churches 
out of 731 have tumbled down and been effaced ? 
Was it a country thinly inhabited by miserable peo- 
ple that could build and keep a church in every 
piece of ground a mile and a half each way, besides 
having, in this same county, 77 monastic establish- 
ments and 142 free chapels 1 Is it a sign of aug- 
mented population, ease and plenty, that, out of 731 
parishes, 268 have suffered the parsonage-houses to 
fall into ruins, and their sites to become patches of 
nettles and of brambles ? Put these questions calmly 
to yourself: common sense will dictate the answers; 
and truth will call for an expression of your indig- 
nation against the lying historians and the still more 
lying population mongers. 



LETTER II. 

TO A YOUNG MAN. 



S3. In the foregoing letter I have given my ad- 
vice to a Youth. In addressing myself to you, I am 
to presume that you have entered upon your present 
stage of life, having acted upon the precepts con- 
tained in that letter ; and that, of course, you are a 
sober, abstinent, industrious and well-informed 
young man. In the succeeding letters, which will 
be addressed to the Lover, the Husband, the Father, 
and the Citizen, I shall, of course, have to include 
my notion of your duties as a master, and as a person 
employed by another. In the present letter, there- 
fore, I shall confine myself principally to the con- 
5 



50 cobbett's advice [Letter 

duct of a young man with regard to the manage- 
ment of his means, or money. 

54. Be you in what line of life you may, it will 
be amongst your misfortunes if you have not time 
properly to attend to this matter ; for it very 
frequently happens, it has happened to thousands 
upon thousands, not only to be ruined, according to 
the common acceptation of the word ; not only to 
be made poor, and to suffer from poverty, in conse- 
quence of want of attention to pecuniary matters ; 
but it has frequently, and even generally happened, 
that a want of attention to these matters has impe- 
ded the progress of science, and of genius itself. A 
man, oppressed with pecuniary cares and dangers, 
must be next to a miracle, if he have his mind in a 
state fit for intellectual labours ; to say nothing of 
the temptations, arising from such distress, to aban- 
don good principles, to suppress useful opinions and 
useful facts ; and, in short, to become a disgrace to his 
kindred, and an evil to his country, instead of being 
an honour to the former and a blessing to the latter. 
To be poor and independent is very nearly an im- 
possibility. 

55. But, then, poverty is not a positive, but a re- 
lative term. Burke observed, and very truly, that 
a labourer who earned a sufficiency to maintain him 
as a labourer, and to maintain him in a suitable manr 
ner ; to give him a sufficiency of good food, of 
clothing, of lodging, and of fuel, ought not to be called 
a poor man : for that, though he had little riches, 
though his, compared with that of a lord, was a 
state of poverty, it was not a state of poverty in 
itself. When, therefore, I say that poverty is the 
cause of a depression of spirit, of inactivity and of 
servility in men of literary talent, I must say, at 
the same time, that the evil arises from their own 
fault ; from their having created for themselves 
imaginary wants ; from their having indulged in 
unnecessary enjoyments, and from their having 
caused that to be poverty, which would not have 
been poverty, if they had been moderate in their 
enjoyments. 



,) TO A YOUNG MAN. 51 

56. As it may be your lot (such has been mine) 
to live by your literary talent, I will, here, before I 
proceed to matter more applicable to persons in 
other states of life, observe, that I cannot form an 
idea of a mortal more wretched than a man of real 
talent, compelled to curb his genius, and to submit 
himself in the exercise of that genius, to those whom 
he knows to be far inferior to himself, and whom he 
must despise from the bottom of his soul. The late 
Mr. William Gifford, who was the son of a shoe- 
maker at Ashburton in Devonshire ; who was put 
to school and sent to the university at the expense 
of a generous and good clergyman of the name of 
Cookson, and who died, the other day, a sort of 
whipper-in of Murray's Quarterly Review ; this 
was a man of real genius ; and, to my certain perso- 
nal knowledge, he detested, from the bottom of his 
soul, the whole of the paper-money and borough- 
mongering system, and despised those fly whom the 
system was carried on. But he had imaginary 
wants ; he had been bred up in company with the 
rich and the extravagant : expensive indulgences 
had been made necessary to him by habit ; and 
when, in the year 1798, or thereabouts, he had to 
choose between a bit of bacon, a scrag of mutton, 
and a lodging at ten shillings a week, on the one 
side, and mace-dishes, wine, a fine house, and a foot- 
man, on the other side, he chose the latter. He 
became the servile Editor of Canning's Anti-jacobin 
newspaper ; and he, who had more wit and learning 
than ail the rest of the writers put together, became 
the miserable tool in circulating their attacks upon 
every thing that was hostile to a system which he 
deplored and detested. But he secured the made- 
dishes, the wine, the footman and the coachman. A 
sinecure as " clerk of the Foreign Estreats," gave 
him 329Z a year, a double commissionership of the 
lottery gave him 6001 or 700/ more ; and, at a later 
period, his Editorship of the Quarterly Review gave 
him perhaps as much more. He rolled in his car- 
riage for several years ; he fared sumptuously, he was 



52 cobbett's advice [Letter 

buried at Westminster Abbey, of which his friend and 
formerly his brother pamphleteer in defence of Pitt 
was the Dean : and never is he to be heard of more ! 
Mr. Gifford would have been full as happy, his health 
would have been better, his life longer, and his name 
would have lived for ages, if he could have turned 
to the bit of bacon and scrag of mutton in 1798 ; for 
his learning and talents were such, his reasonings so 
clear and conclusive, and his wit so pointed and 
keen, that his writings must have been generally 
read, must have been of long duration ; and indeed 
must have enabled him (he being always a single 
man) to live in his latter days in as good style as 
that which he procured by becoming a sinecurist, a 
pensioner, and a hack, all which he was from the 
moment he lent himself to the Quarterly Review. 
Think of the mortification of such a man, when 
he was called upon to justify the power-of-imprison- 
ment bill in* 1817 ! But, to go into particulars 
would be tedious : his life was a life of luxurious 
misery, than which a worse is not to be imagined. \ 
57. So that poverty is, except where there is an 
actual want of food and raiment, a thing much more 
imaginary than real. The shame of poverty, the 
shame of being thought poor, is a great and fatal 
weakness, though arising in this country, from the 
fashion of the times themselves. When a good 
man, as in the phraseology of the city, means a rich 
man, we are not to wonder that every one wishes to 
be thought richer than he is. When adulation is 
sure to follow wealth, and when contempt would be 
awarded to many if they were not wealthy, who are 
spoken of with deference, and even lauded to the 
skies, because their riches are great and notorious 5 
when this is the case, we are not to be surprised that 
men are ashamed to be thought to be poor. This is one 
of the greatest of all the dangers at the outset ol 
life ; it has brought thousands and hundreds of thou- 
sands to ruin, even to pecuniary ruin. One of the 
most amiable features in the character of American 
society is this ; that men never boast of their rich- 



IL] TO A YOUNG MAN. 63 

es, and never disguise their poverty ; but they talk 
of both as of any other matter fit for public con- 
versation. No man shuns another because he 
is poor : no man is preferred to another because 
he is rich. In hundreds and hundreds of instan* 
ces, men, not worth a shilling, have been chosen by 
the people, and entrusted with their rights and inte- 
rests, in preference to men who ride in their carriages. 
58. This shame of being thought poor is not only 
dishonourable in itself, and fatally injurious to men 
of talent ; but it is ruinous even in a pecuniary point 
of view, and equally destructive to farmers, traders, 
and even gentlemen of landed estate. It leads to ever- 
lasting efforts to disguise one^s poverty : the carriage, 
the servants, the wine, (O, that fatal wine!) the spirits, 
the decanters, the glasses, all the table apparatus, the 
dress, the horses, the dinners, the parties, all must be 
kept up ; not so much because he or she or who keeps 
or gives them, has any pleasure arising therefrom, as 
because not to keep and give them, would give rise to 
a suspicion of the want of weans so to give and 
keep ; and thus thousands upon thousands are year* 
ly brought into a state of real poverty by their great 
anxiety not to be thought poor. Look round you, mark 
well what you behold, and say if this be not the case. 
In how many instances have Vou seen most amiable 
and even most industrious families brought to ruin 
by nothing but this ! Mark it well : resolve to set 
this false shame at defiance, and when you have 
done that, you have laid the first stone of the surest 
foundation of your future tranquillity of mind. 
There are thousands of families, at this very mo- 
ment, who are thus struggling to keep up appear- 
ances. The farmers accommodate themselves to 
circumstances more easily than tradesmen and 
professional men. They live at a greater dis- 
tance from their neighbours : they can change their 
style of living un perceived ; they can banish the 
decanter, change the dishes for a bit of bacon, make 
a treat out of a rasher and eggs, and the world is 
none the wiser all the whil e. But the tradesman, the 
5* 



54 cobbett's advice [Letter 

doctor, the attorney, and the trader, cannot make 
the change so quietly and unseen. The accursed 
wine, which is a sort of criterion of the style ol 
living, a sort of scale to the plan, a sort of key to the 
tune ; this is the thing to banish first of all ; because 
all the rest follow, and come down to their proper 
level in a short time. The accursed decanter cries 
footman or waiting maid, puts bells to the side oi 
the wall, screams aloud for carpets ; and when I 
am asked, " Lord, what is a glass of wine V J my an- 
swer is, that in this country, it is every thing ; it is 
the pitcher of the key ; it demands all the other 
unnecessary expenses ; it is injurious to health, and 
must be injurious, every bottle of wine that is drunk 
containing a certain portion of ardent spirits, be- 
sides other drugs, deleterious in their nature ; and, 
of all the friends to the doctors, this fashionable 
beverage is the greatest. And, which adds greatly 
to the folly, or, I should say, the real vice in using 
it, is, that the parties themselves, nine times out ol 
ten, do not drink it by choice; do not like it ; do not 
relish it ; but use it from mere ostentation, being 
ashamed to be seen even by their own servants, not 
to drink wine. At the very moment I am writing 
this, there are thousands of families in and near 
London, who daily have wine upon their tables, and 
who drink it too, merely because their own servants 
should not suspect them to be poor, and not deem 
them to be genteel ; and thus families by thousands 
are ruined, only because they are ashamed to be 
thought poor. 

59. There is no shame belonging to poverty, which 
frequently arises from the virtues of the impoverish* 
ed parties. Not so frequently, indeed, as from vice, 
folly, and indiscretion; but still very frequently. 
And as the Scripture tells us, that we are not to " de- 
spise the poor because he is poor ;" so we ought not 
to honour the rich because he is rich. The true way 
is, to take a fair survey of the character of a man as 
depicted in his conduct, and to respect him, or de- 
spise him, according to a due estimate of that charac 



II. J TO A YOUNG MAN. 55 

ter. No country upon earth exhibits so many, as this, 
of those fatal terminations of life, called suicides. 
These arise, in nine instances out of ten, from this 
very source. The victims are, in general, what may 
be fairly called insane : but their insanity almost al- 
ways arises from the dread of poverty ; not from the 
dread of a want of the means of sustaining life, or 
even decent living, but from the dread of being 
thought or known to be poor ; from the dread of 
what is called falling in the scale of society; a dread 
which is prevalent hardly in any country but this. 
Looked at in its true light, what is there in poverty 
to make a man take away his own life ? he is the 
same man that he was before : he has the same body 
and the same mind : if he even foresee a great alter- 
ation in his dress or his diet, why should he kill him- 
self on that account ? Are these all the things that 
a man wishes to live for ? But, such is the fact ; so 
great is the disgrace upon this country, and so nu- 
merous and terrible are the evils arising from this 
dread of being thought to be poor. 

60. Nevertheless, men ought to take care of their 
means, ought to use them prudently and sparingly, 
and to keep their expenses always within the bounds 
of their income, be it what it may. One of the ef- 
fectual means of doing this, is, to purchase with 
ready money. St. Paul says, " Owe no man any 
thing:" and of his numerous precepts this is by no 
means the least worthy of our attention. Credit has 
been boasted of as a very fine thing: to decry credit 
seems to be setting oneself up against the opinions 
of the whole world ; and I remember a paper in the 
Freeholder or the Spectator, published just after 
the funding system had begun, representing "Public 
Credit" as a Goddess, enthroned in a temple dedi- 
cated to her by her votaries, amongst whom she is 
dispensing blessings of every description. It must 
be more than forty years since I read this paper, 
which I read soon after the time when the late Mr. 
Pitt uttered in Parliament an expression of his 
anxious hope, that his " name would be inscribed on 



56 cobbett's advice [Letter 

"the monument which he should raise to public 
credit." Time has taught me, that Public Credit 
means, the contracting of debts which a nation never 
can pay ; and I have lived to see this Goddess pro- 
duce effects in my country, which Satan himself ne- 
ver could have produced. It is a very bewitching 
goddess ; and not less fatal in her influence in private 
than in public affairs. It has been carried in this lat- 
ter respect to such a pitch, that scarcely any trans- 
action, however low and inconsiderable in amount, 
takes place in any other way. There is a trade in 
London, called the " Tally-trade," by which, house- 
hold goods, coals, clothing, all sorts of things, are 
sold upon credit, the seller keeping a tally, and re- 
ceiving payment for the goods, little by little; so 
that the income and the earnings of the buyers are 
always anticipated; are always gone, in fact, before 
they come in or are earned ; the sellers receiving, of 
course, a great deal more than the proper profit. 

61. Without supposing you to descend to so low a 
grade as this, and even supposing you to be lawyer, 
doctor, parson, or merchant ; it is still the same thing, 
if you purchase on credit, and not perhaps, in a 
much less degree of disadvantage. Besides the 
higher price that you pay, there is the temptation 
to have what you really do not want. The cost seems 
a trifle, when you have not to pay the money until a 
future time. It has- been observed, and very truly 
observed, that men used to Jay out a one-pound note 
when they would not lay oH a sovereign ; a con- 
sciousness of the intrinsic value of the things pro- 
duces a retentiveness in the latter case more than in 
the former : the sight and the touch assist the mind 
in forming its conclusions, and the one-pound note 
was parted with when the sovereign would have been 
kept. Far greater is the difference between credit 
and ready money. Innumerable things are not bought 
at all with ready money, which would be bought in 
case of trust : it is so much easier to order a thing 
than to pay for it. A future day ; a day of payment 
must come, to be sure, but that is little thought ot 



II.] TO A YOUNG MAN. 57 

at the time ; but if the money were to be drawn out, 
the moment the thing was received or offered, this 
question would arise, " Can I do "without it ?" Is this 
thing indispensable; am I compelled to have it, or, 
suffer a loss or injury greater in amount than the 
cost of the thing? If this question were put every 
time we make a purchase, seldom should we hear of 
those suicides which are such a disgrace to this 
country. 

62. I am aware, that it will be said, and very truly 
said, that the concerns of merchants ; that the pur- 
chasing of great estates, and various other great 
transactions, cannot be carried on in this manner ; 
but these are rare exceptions to the rule : even in 
these cases there might be much less of bills and 
bonds, and all the sources of litigation ; but in the 
every-day business of life, in transactions with the 
butcher, the baker, the tailor, the shoemaker, what 
excuse can there be for pleading the example of the 
merchant, who carries on his work by ships and ex- 
changes ? I was delighted, some time ago, by being 
told of a young man, who, upon being advised to 
keep a little account of all he received and expended, 
answered, "that his business was not to keep ac- 
" count-books : that he was sure not to make a mis- 
" take as to his income ; and, that as to his expendi- 
" ture, the little bag that held his sovereigns would 
" be an infallible guide, as he never bought any thing 
" that he did not immediately pay for." 

63. I believe that nobody will deny, that, generally 
speaking, you pay for the same article a fourth 
part more in the case of trust than you do in the 
case of ready money. Suppose, then, the baker, 
butcher, tailor, and shoemaker, receive from you only 
one hundred pounds a year. Put that together ; that 
is to say, multiply twenty-five by twenty, and you 
will find, that, at the end of twenty years, you have 
500Z. besides the accumulating and growing interest. 
The fathers of the Church (I mean the ancient ones), 
and also the canons of the Church, forbade selling on 
*ffist at a higher price than for ready money, which 



58 cobbett's advice [Xetter 

was in effect, to forbid trust; and th is, doubtless, 
was one of the great objects which those wise and 
pious men had in view ; for they were fathers in le- 
gislation and morals as well as in religion. But the 
doctrine of these fathers and canons no longer pre- 
vails ; they are set at nought by the present age, 
even in the countries that adhere to their religion. 
Addison's Goddess has prevailed over the fathers and 
the canons; and men not only make a difference in 
the price regulated by the difference in the mode of 
payment ; but it would be absurd to expect them to 
do otherwise. They must not only charge some- 
thing for the want of the use of the money ; but 
they must charge something additional for the risk 
of its loss, which may frequently arise, and most 
frequently does arise, from the misfortunes of those 
to whom they have assigned their goods on trust. 
The man, therefore, who purchases on trust, not 
only pays for the trust, but he also pays his due 
share of what the tradesman loses by trust; and, af- 
ter all, he is not so good a customer as the man who 
purchases cheaply with ready money ; for there is 
his name indeed in the tradesman's book ; but with 
that name the tradesman cannot go to market to get 
a fresh supply. 

64. Infinite are the ways in which gentlemen lose 
by this sort of dealing. Servants go and order, some- 
times, things not wanted at all ; at other times, more 
than is wanted; at others, things of a higher quali- 
ty ; and all this would be obviated by purchasing with 
ready money ; for, whether through the hands of 
the party himself, or through those of an inferior, 
there would always be an actual counting out of the 
money ; somebody would see the thing bought and 
see the money paid ; and as the master would give 
the house-keeper or steward a bag of money at the 
time, he would see the money too, would set a proper 
value upon it, and would just desire to know upon 
what it had been expended. 

65. How is it that farmers are so exact, and show 
such a disposition to retrench in the article of la- 



II.] TO A YOUNG MAN. 59 

bour, when they seem to think little, or nothing, 
about the sums which they pay in tax upon malt, 
wine, sugar, tea, soap, candles, tobacco, and various 
other things? You find the utmost difficulty in 
making them understand, that they are affected by 
these. The reason is, that they see the money which 
they give to the labourer on each succeeding Satur 
day night ; but they do not see that which they give 
in taxes on the articles before mentioned. Why is 
it that they make such an outcry about the six or 
seven millions a year which are paid in poor-rates, 
and say not a word about the sixty millions a year 
raised in other taxes ? The consumer pays all ; and, 
therefore, they are as much interested in the one as 
in the other ; and yet the farmers think of no tax 
but the poor tax. The reason is, that the latter is col- 
lected from them in money: they sceii go out of their 
hands into the hands of another ; and, therefore, 
they are everlastingly anxious to reduce the poor- 
rates, and they take care to keep them within the 
smallest possible bounds. 

66. Just thus would it be with every man that 
never purchased but with ready money : he would 
make the amount as low as possible in proportion to 
his means : this care and frugality would make an 
addition to his means, and, therefore in the end, at 
the end of his life, he would have had a great deal 
more to spend, and still be as rich, as if he had gone 
intrust; while he would have lived in tranquillity all 
the while ; and would have avoided all the endless 
papers and writings and receipts and bills and dis- 
putes and law-suits inseparable from a system of 
credit. This is by no means a lesson of stinginess ; 
by no means tends to inculcate a heaping up of mo- 
ney ; for, the purchasing with ready money really 
gives you more money to purchase with ; you can af- 
ford to have a greater quantity and variety of things; 
and I will engage, that, if horses or servants be your 
taste, the saving in this way gives you an additional 
horse or an additional servant, if you be in any pro- 
fession or engaged in any considerable trade. In 



60 cobbetts advice [Letter 

towns, it tends, to accelerate your pace along the 
streets ; for, the temptation of the windows is answer- 
ed in a moment by clapping your hand upon your 
thigh ; and the question, " Do I really want that V is 
sure to occur to you immediately ; because the touch 
of the money is sure to put that thought in your 
mind. 

67. Now, supposing you to have a plenty, to 
have a fortune beyond your wants, would not the 
money which you would save in this way, be very 
well applied in acts of real benevolence ? Can you 
walk many yards in the streets ; can you ride a mile 
in the country ; can you go to half a dozen cottages ; 
can you, in short, open your eyes, without seeing 
some human being ; some one born in the same 
country with yourself, and who, on that account 
alone, has some claim upon your good wishes and 
your charity ; can you open your eyes without see- 
ing some person to whom even a small portion of 
your annual s'avings would convey gladness of 
heart ? Your own heart will suggest the answer ; 
and if there were no motive but this, what need I say 
more in the advice which I have here tendered to 
you ? 

68. Another great evil arising from this desire to 
be thought rich, or rather from the desire not to be 
thought poor, is the destructive thing which has 
been honoured by the name of " speculation ;" but 
which ought to be called Gambling. It is a purcha- 
sing of something which you do not want, either in 
your family or in the way of ordinary trade : a 
something to be sold again with a great profit ; and 
on the sale of which there is a considerable hazard. 
When purchases of this sort are made with ready 
money, they are not so offensive to reason, and not 
attended with such risk ; but when they are made 
with money borrowed for the purpose, they are nei- 
ther more nor less than gambling transactions ; and 
they have been, in this country, a source of ruin, 
misery, and suicide, admitting of no adequate de- 
scription. I grant that this gambling has arisen 



II.] TO A YOUNG MAN. Ul 

from the influence of the " Goddess" before mention- 
ed ; I grant that it has arisen from the facility of 
obtaining the fictitious means of making the purcha- 
ses ; and I grant that that facility has been created 
by the system, under the baneful influence of which 
we live. But it is not the less necessary that I be- 
seech you not to practise such gambling ; that I be- 
seech you, if you be engaged in it, to disentangle 
yourself from it as soon as you can. Your life, 
while you are thus engaged, is the life of a gamester ; 
a life of constant anxiety ; constant desire to over- 
reach ; constant apprehension : general gloom, en- 
livened, now and then, by a gleam of hope or of 
success. Even that success is sure to lead to fur- 
ther adventures ; and, at last, a thousand to one, that 
your fate is that of the pitcher to the well. 

69. The great temptation to this gambling is, 
as in the case in other gambling, the success of the 
few. As young men, who crowd to the army, in 
search of rank and renown, never look into the 
ditch that holds their slaughtered companions ; but 
have their eye constantly fixed on the general in 
chief; and as each of them belongs to the same 
profession, and is sure to be conscious that he has 
equal merit, every one deems himself the suitable 
successor of him who is surrounded with Aides-de- 
camp, and who moves battalions and columns by 
his nod ; so with the rising generation of " specula- 
tors :" they see the great estates that have succeed- 
ed the pencil-box and the orange-basket ; they see 
those whom nature and good laws made to black 
shoes, sweep chimnies or the streets, rolling in car- 
riages, or sitting in saloons surrounded by gaudy 
footmen with napkins twisted round their thumbs ; 
and they can see no earthly reason why they should 
not all do the same ; forgetting the thousands and 
thousands, who, in making the attempt, have re- 
duced themselves to that beggary which, before 
their attempt, they would have regarded as a thing 
wholly impossible. 

70. In all situations of life, avoid the trammels of 

6 



62 cobbett's advice [Letter 

the law. Man's nature must be changed before law- 
suits will cease ; and, perhaps, it would be next to 
impossible to make them less frequent than they are 
in the present state of this country ; but though no 
man who has any property at all, can say that he 
will have nothing to do with law-suits, it is in the 
power of most men to avoid them, in a considerable 
degree. One good rule is, to have as little as possible 
to do with any man who is fond of law-suits ; and 
who, upon every slight occasion, talks of an appeal 
to the law. Such persons, from their frequent liti- 
gations, contract a habit of using the technical 
terms of the courts, in which they take a pride, and 
are, therefore, companions peculiarly disgusting to 
men of sense. To such men a law-suit is a luxury, 
instead of being as it is, to men of ordinary minds, 
a source of anxiety and a real and substantial 
scourge. Such men are always of a quarrelsome 
disposition, and avail themselves of every opportu- 
nity to indulge in that which is mischievous to their 
neighbours. In thousands of instances men go to 
law for the indulgence of mere anger. The Ger- 
mans are said to bring spite-actions against one 
another ; and to harass their poorer neighbours, 
from motives of pure revenge. They have carried 
this their disposition with them to America ; for 
which reason no one likes to live in a German 
neighbourhood. 

71. Before you go to law, consider well the cost ; 
for if you win your suit and are poorer than you 
were before, what do you accomplish ? You only 
imbibe a little additional anger against your oppo- 
nent ; you injure him, but do harm to yourself. 
Better to put up with the loss of one pound than of 
two, to which latter is to be added all the loss of 
time ; all the trouble, and all the mortification and 
anxiety attending a law-suit. To set an attorney to 
work to worry and torment another man is a very 
base act ; to alarm his family as well as himself, 
while you are sitting quietly at home. If a man 
owe you money which he cannot pay, why add to 



II.] TO A YOUNG MAN. 63 

his distress without the chance of benefit to your- 
self? Thousands of men have injured themselves 
by resorting to the law ; while very few ever bet- 
tered themselves by it, except such resort were una- 
voidable. 

72. Nothing is much more discreditable than 
what is called hard dealing. They say of the 
Turks, that they know nothing of two prices for the 
same article : and that to ask an abatement of the 
lowest shopkeeper is to insult him. It would be well 
if Christians imitated Mahometans in this respect 
To ask one price and take another, or to offer one 
price and give another, besides the loss of time that 
it occasions, is highly dishonourable to the parties, 
and especially when pushed to the extent of solemn 
protestations. It is in fact, a species of lying ; and 
it answers no one advantageous purpose to either 
buyer or seller. I hope that every young man, who 
reads this, will start in life with a resolution never 
to higgle and lie in dealings. There is this circum- 
stance in favour of the bookseller's business; every 
book has its fixed price, and no one ever asks an 
abatement. If it were thus in all other trades, how 
much time would be saved, and how much immo- 
rality prevented ! 

73. As to the spending of your time, your busi- 
ness or your profession is to claim the priority of 
every thing else. Unless that be duly attended to^ 
there can be no real pleasure in any other employ- 
ment of a portion of your time. Men, however, 
must have some leisure, some relaxation from busi- 
ness ; and in the choice of this relaxation, much of 
your happiness will depend. Where fields and gar- 
dens are at hand, they present the most rational 
scenes for leisure. As to company, I have said 
enough in the former letter to deter any young man 
from that of drunkards and rioting companions ; but 
there is such a thing as your quiet " pipe-and-pot- 
companions," which are, perhaps, the most fatal of 
all. Nothing can be conceived more dull, more 
stupid, more the contrary of edification and rational 



64 cobbett's advice [Letter 

amusement, than sitting, sotting, over a pot and a 
glass, sending out smoke from the head, and articu- 
lating, at intervals, nonsense about all sorts of things. 
Seven years' service as a galley-slave would be more 
bearable to a man of sense, than seven months' con- 
finement to society like this. Yet, such is the effect 
of habit, that, if a young man become a frequentei 
of such scenes, the idle propensity sticks to him foi 
life. Some companions, however, every man must 
have ; but these every well-behaved man will find in 
private houses, where families are found residing, 
and where the suitable intercourse takes place be- 
tween women and men. A man that cannot pass an 
evening without drink merits the name of a sot 
Why should there be drink for the purpose of carry- 
ing on conversation ? Women stand in need of no 
drink to stimulate them to converse ; and I have a 
thousand times admired their patience in sitting 
quietly at their work, while their husbands are en- 
gaged, in the same room, with bottles and glasses 
before them, thinking nothing of the expense and 
still less of the shame which the distinction reflects 
upon them. We have to thank the women for many 
things, and particularly for their sobriety, for fear of 
following their example in which men drive them 
from the table, as if they said to them : " You have 
" had enough ; food is sufficient for you ; but we 
" must remain to fill ourselves with drink, and to talk 
" in language which your ears ought not to endure." 
When women are getting up to retire from the table, 
men rise in honour of them ; but, they take special 
care not to follow their excellent example. That 
which is not fit to be uttered before women is not fit 
to be uttered at all ; and it is next to a proclamation 
tolerating drunkenness and indecency, to send wo- 
men from the table the moment they have swallowed 
their food. The practice has been ascribed to a de- 
sire to leave them to themselves: but why should 
they be left to themselves 1 Their conversation is 
always the most lively, while their persons are ge- 
nerally the most agreeable objects. No: the plain 



II.^j TO A YOUNG MAN. 65 

truth is, that it is the love of the drink and of the 
indecent talk that send women from the table ; and 
it is a practice which 1 have always abhorred. I 
like to see young men, especially, follow them out of 
the room, and prefer their company to that of the 
sots who are left behind. 

74. Another mode of spending the leisure time is 
that of books. Rational and well-informed com- 
panions may be still more instructive ; but, books 
never annoy; they cost little; and they are always 
at hand, and ready at your call. The sort of books, 
must, in some degree, depend upon your pursuit in 
life; but there are some books necessary to every 
one who aims at the character of a well-informed 
man. I have slightly mentioned History and Geo- 
graphy in the preceding letter ; but I must here ob- 
serve, that, as to both these, you should begin with 
your own country, and make yourself well acquaint- 
ed, not only with its ancient state, but with the origin 
of all its principal institutions. To read of the bat- 
tles which it has fought, and of the intrigues by which 
one king or one minister hassucceededanother,isvery 
little more profitable than the reading of a romance. 
To understand well the history of the country, you 
should first understand how it came to be divided 
into counties, hundreds, and into parishes; how 
judges, sheriffs, and juries first arose; to what end 
they were all invented, and how the changes with re- 
spect to any of them have been produced. But, it 
is of particular consequence, that you ascertain the 
state of the people in former times, which is to be as- 
certained by comparing the then price of labour with 
the then price of food. You hear enough, and yon 
read enough, about the glorious wars in the reign of 
King Edward the third ; and it is very proper that 
those glories should be recorded and remembered ; 
but you never read, in the works of the historians, 
that, in that reign, a common labourer earned three- 
pence-halfpenny a day ; and that &fat sheep was sold, 
at the same time, for one shilling and twopence, and 
a fat hog, two years old, for three shillings and foul- 
er 



66 cobbett's advice [Letter 

pence, and a fat goose for twopence-halfpenny. You 
never read, that women received a penny a day for 
hay-making or weeding in the corn, and that a gal- 
lon of red wine was sold for fourpence. These are 
matters which historians have deemed to be beneath 
their notice; but, they are matters of real importance : 
they are matters which ought to have practical ef- 
fect at this time; for these furnish the criterion 
whereby we are to judge of our condition compared 
with that of our forefathers. The poor-rates form 
a great feature in the laws and customs of this coun- 
try. Put to a thousand persons who have read what 
is called the history of England ; put to them the 
question, how the poor-rates came ? and nine hun- 
dred and ninety-nine of the thousand will tell you, 
that they know nothing at all of the matter. This 
is not history ; a list of battles and a string of in- 
trigues are not history, they communicate no know- 
ledge applicable to our present state ; and it really is 
better to amuse oneself with an avowed romance, 
which latter is a great deal worse than passing one's 
time in counting the trees. 

75. History has been described as affording argu- 
ments of experience ; as a record of what has been, 
in order to guide us as to what is likely to be, or what 
ought to be ; but, from this romancing history, no 
such experience is to be derived : for it furnishes no 
facts on which to found arguments relative to the 
existing or future state of things. To come at the true 
history of a country you must read its laws: you 
must read books treating of its usages and customs, 
in former times ; and you must particularly inform 
yourself as to prices of labour and of food. By read- 
ing the single Act of the 23rd year of Edward 
the third, specifying the price of labour at that time; 
by reading an act of Parliament passed in the 24th 
year of Henry the 8th ; by reading these two Acts, 
and then reading the Preciosum of Bishop Fleet- 
wood, which shows the price of food in the former 
reign, you come into full possession of the know- 
ledge of what England was in former times. Divers 



If. J TO A YOUNG MAN. 67 

books teach how the divisions of the country arose, 
and how its great institutions were established ; and, 
the result of this reading is in store of knowledge, 
which will afford you pleasure for the whole of your 
Life. 

76. History, however, is by no means the only 
thing about which every man's leisure furnishes him 
with the means of reading; besides which, every 
man has not the same taste. Poetry, Geography, 
Moral Essays, the divers subjects of Philosophy, 
Travels, Natural History, books on Sciences ; and, 
in short, the whole range of book-knowledge is be- 
fore you : but, there is one thing always to be guard- 
ed against ; and that is, not to admire and applaud 
any thing you read, merely because it is the fashion 
to admire and applaud it. Read, consider well what 
you read, form your own judgment, and stand by 
that judgment in despite of the sayings of what are 
called learned men, until fact or argument be offered 
to convince you of your error. One writer praises 
another ; and it is very possible for writers so to 
combine as to cry down, and, in some sort, to destroy 
the reputation of any one who meddles with the 
combination, unless the person thus assailed be 
blessed with uncommon talent and uncommon per- 
severance. When I read the works of Pope and of 
Swift, I was greatly delighted with their lashing of 
Dennis ; but wondered, at the same time, why they 
should have taken so much pains in running down 
such a fool. By the merest accident in the world, 
being at a tavern in the woods of America, I took up 
an old book, in order to pass away the time while 
my travelling companions were drinking in the next 
room; but, seeing the book contained the criticisms 
of Dennis, I was about to lay it down, when the 
play of u Cato" caught my eye; and, having been 
accustomed to read books in which this play was 
lauded to the skies, and knowing it to have been 
written by Addison, every line of whose works I 
had been taught to believe teemed with wisdom and 
genius, I condescended to begin to read, though the 



68 cobbett's advice [Letter 

work was from the pen of that fool Dennis. I read 
on, and soon began to laugh, not at Dennis but at 
Addison. I laughed so much and so loud, that the 
landlord, who was in the passage, came in to see 
what I was laughing at. In short, 1 found it a most 
masterly production, one of the most witty things 
that I had ever read in my Me. I was delighted 
with Dennis, and was heartily ashamed of my form- 
er admiration of Cato, and felt no little resentment 
against Pope and Swift for their endless reviling of 
this most able and witty critic. This, as far as I 
recollect, was the first emancipation that had assisted 
me in my reading. I have, since that time, never 
taken any thing upon trust: I have judged for my- 
self, trusting neither to the opinions of writers nor 
in the fashions of the day. Having been told by 
Dr. Blair, in his lectures on Rhetoric, that, if f 
meant to write correctly, I must " give my days and 
nights to Addison^" I read a few numbers of the 
Spectator at the time I was writing my English 
Grammar: I gave neither my nights nor my days to 
him ; but I found an abundance of matter to afford 
examples of jalse grammar ; and, upon a re-peru- 
sal, I found that the criticisms of Dennis might have 
been extended to this book too. 

77. But that which never ought to have been for- 
gotten by those who were men at the time, and that 
which ought to be made known to every young man 
of the present day, in order that he may be induced 
to exercise his own judgment with regard to books y 
is, the transactions relative to the writings of Shak- 
spEARE r which transactions took place about thirty 
years ago. It is still, and it was then much more, 
the practice to extol every line f Shakspeare to the 
skies : not to admire Shakspea e has been deemed 
to be a proof of want of understanding and taste. 
Mr. Garrick, and some others after him, had their 
own good and profitable reasons for crying up the 
works of this poet. When I was a very little boy, 
there was a jubilee in honour of Shakspeare, and as 
he was said to have planted a Mulberry-tree., boxes, 



II.] TO A YOUNG MAN. 



69 



and other little ornamental things in wood, were 
sold all over the country, as having been made out 
of the trunk or limbs of this ancient and sacred tree. 
We Protestants laugh at the relics so highly prized 
by Catholics ; but never was a Catholic people half 
so much duped by the relics of saints, as this nation 
was by the mulberry tree, of which, probably, more 
wood was sold than would have been sufficient in 
quantity to build a ship oi war, or a large house. 
This madness abated for some years ; but, towards 
the end of the last century it broke out again with 
more fury than ever. Shakspeare's works were 
published by Boydell, an Alderman of London, at a 
subscription of jive hundreds pounds for each copy, 
accompanied by plates, each forming a large picture. 
Amongst the mad men of the day was a Mr. Ire- 
land, who seemed to be more mad than any of the 
rest. His adoration of the poet led him to perform 
a pilgrimage to an old farm-house, near Stratford- 
upon-Avon, said to have been the birth-place of the 
poet. Arrived at the spot, he requested the farmer 
and his wife to let him search the house for papers, 
first going' upon his knees, and praying, in the poetic 
style, the gods to aid him in his quest. He found no 
papers; but he found that the farmer's wife, in clear- 
ing out a garret some years before, had found some 
rubbishy old papers which she had burnt, and which 
had probably been papers used m the wrapping up 
of pigs' cheeks to keep them from the bats. " O, 
wretched woman !" exclaimed he ; " do you know 
what you have done ?" " O dear, no !" said the wo- 
man, half frightened out of her wits : "no harm, I 
hope ; for the papers were very old ; I dare say as 
old as the house itself." This threw him into an 
additional degree of excitement, as it is now fashion- 
ably called : he raved, he stamped, he foamed, and 
at last quitted the house, covering the poor woman 
with every term of reproach ; and hastening back 
to Stratford, took post-chaise for London, to relate 
to his brother madmen the horrible sacrilege of this 
heathenish woman. Unfortunately for Mr. Ireland, 



70 cobbett's advice [Letter 

unfortunately for his learned brothers in the metro- 
polis, and unfortunately for the reputation of Shak- 
speare, Mr. Ireland took with him to the scene of 
his adoration a son, about sixteen years of age, who 
was articled to an attorney m London. The son 
was by no means so sharply bitten as the father ; 
and, upon returning to town, he conceived the idea 
of supplying' the place of the invaluable papers which 
the farm-house heathen had destroyed. He thought, 
and he thought rightly, that he should have little 
difficulty in writing plays just like those of Shak- 
speare ! To get paper that should seem to have 
been made in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and ink 
that should give to writing the appearance of having 
the same age, was somewhat difficult ; but both were 
overcome. Young Ireland was acquainted with a 
son of a bookseller, who dealt in old books : the blank 
leaves of these books supplied the young author with 
paper : and he found out the way of making proper 
ink for his purpose. To work he went, wrote seve- 
ral plays, some love-letters, and other things; and 
having got a Bible, extant in the time of Shakspeare, 
he wrote notes in the margin. All these, together 
with sonnets in abundance, and other little detached 
pieces, he produced to his father, telling him he got 
them from a gentleman, who had made him, swear 
that he would not divulge his name. The father an 
nounced the invaluable discovery to the literary 
world : the literary world rushed to him ; the manu- 
scripts were regarded as genuine by the most grave 
and learned Doctors, some of whom (and amongst 
these were Doctors Parr and Warton) gave, under 
their hands, an opinion, that the manuscripts must 
have been written by Shakspeare ; for that no other 
man in the world could have been capable of writing 
them ! 

78. Mr. Ireland opened a subscription, published 
these new and invaluable manuscripts at an enor- 
mous price; and preparations were instantly made 
for performing one of the plays, called Vortigern* 
Soon after the acting of the play, the indiscretion of 



II. j TO A YOUNG MAN. 71 

the lad caused the secret to explode ; and, instantly, 
those who had declared that he had written as well 
as Shakspeare, did every thing in their power to de- 
stroy him I The attorney drove him from his office ; 
the father drove him from his house; and, in short, 
he was hunted down as if he had been a malefactor 
of the worst description. The truth of this relation 
is undeniable; it is recorded in numberless books. 
The young man is, I believe, yet alive; and, in 
short, no man will question any one of the facts. 

79. After this, where is the person of sense who 
will be guided in these matters by fashion ? where 
is the man, who wishes not to be deluded, who will 
not, when he has read a book, judge for himself? 
After all these jubilees and pilgrimages ; after Boy- 
dell's subscription of 500Z. for one single copy ; 
after it had been deemed almost impiety to doubt of 
the genius of Shakspeare surpassing that of all the 
rest of mankind ; after he had been called the " Im- 
mortal Bard," as a matter of course, as we speak of 
Moses and Aaron, there having been but one of each 
in the world ; after all this, comes a lad of sixteen 
years of age, writes that which learned Doctors declare 
could have been written by no man but Shakspeare, 
and, when it is discovered that this laughing boy is 
the real author, the Doctors turn round upon him, 
with all the newspapers, magazines, and reviews, 
and, of course, the public at their back, revile him 
as an impostor ; and, under that odious name, hunt 
him out of society, and doom him to starve ! This 
lesson, at any rate, he has given us : not to rely on 
the judgment of Doctors and other pretenders to 
literary superiority. Every young man, when he 
takes up a book for the first time, ought to remem- 
ber this story ; and if he do remember it, he will 
disregard fashion with regard to the book, and will 
pay little attention to the decision of those who call 
themselves critics. 

80. I hope that your taste would keep you aloof 
from the writings of those detestable villains, who 
employ the powers of their mind in debauching the 



72 cobbett's advice [Letter 

minds of others, or in endeavours to do it. They 
present their poison in such captivating forms, that 
it requires great virtue and resolution to withstand 
their temptations ; and, they have, perhaps, done a 
thousand times as much mischief in the world as all 
the infidels and atheists put together. These men 
ought to be called literary pimps : they ought to 
be held in universal abhorrence, and never spoken 
of with but execration. Any appeal to bad passions 
is to be despised ; any appeal to ignorance and pre- 
judice ; but here is an appeal to the frailties of human 
nature, and an endeavour to make the mind corrupt, 
just as it is beginning to possess its powers. I have 
never known any but bad men, worthless men, men 
unworthy of any portion of respect, who took delight 
in, or even kept in their possession, writings of the de- 
scription to which I here allude. The writings of Swift 
have this blemish ; and, though he is not a teacher 
of lewdness j but rather the contrary, there are cer- 
tain parts of his poems which are much too filthy for 
any decent person to read. It was beneath him to stoop 
to such means of setting forth that wit which would 
have been far more brilliant without them. I have 
heard, that, in the library of what is called an " illus- 
trious person," sold some time ago, there was an 
immense collection of books of this infamous de- 
scription ; and from this circumstance, if from no 
other, I should have formed my judgment of the 
character of that person. 

81. Besides reading, a young man ought to write, 
if he have the capacity and the leisure. If you wish 
to remember a thing well, put it into writing, even 
if you burn the paper immediately after you have 
done ; for the eye greatly assists the mind. Memory 
consists of a concatenation of ideas, the place, the 
time, and other circumstances, lead to the recollec- 
tion of facts ; and no circumstance more effectually 
than stating the facts upon paper. A Journal 
should be kept by fcvery young man. Put down 
something against every day in the year, if it be 
merely a description of the weather. You will not 



III.^ TO X J.OVBR. 73 

kave done this for one year without findin^the bene- 
fit of it. It disburthens the mind of many things to 
be recollected ; it is amusing and useful, and ought 
by no means to be neglected. How often doeait hap- 
pen that we cannot make a statement of facts, some- 
times very interesting to ourselves and our friends, 
for the want of a record of the places where we were, 
and of things that occurred on such and such a day i 
How often does it happen that we get ipto disagree- 
able disputes about things that have passed, and 
about the time and other circumstances attending 
them ! As a thing of mere curiosity, it is of some 
value, and may frequently prove of very great utility. 
It demands not more than a minute in the twenty* 
four hours ; and that minute is most agreeably am 
advantageously employed. It tends greatly to pro* 
duce regularity in the conducting of affair* : it is a 
thing demanding a small portion of attention once ilk 
every day ; I myself have found it to be attended with 
great and numerous benefits, and I therefore strongly 
recommend it to the practice of every reader; 



LETTER lit 

TO A LOVER. 



82. There are two descriptions of Lovers on 
whom all advice would be wasted ; namely, those in 
whose minds passion so wholly overpowers reason 
as to deprive the party of his softer senses. Few 
people are entitled to more compassion than young 
men thus affected : it is a species of insanity that 
assails them ; and, when it produces self-destruction, 
which it does in England more frequently than in all 
the other countries in the world put together, the 
mortal remains of the sufferer ought to be dealt with 
7 



74 cobbett's advice [Letter 

in as tender a manner as that of which the most mer- 
ciful construction of the law will allow. If Sir Samuel 
Romilly's remains were,as they were,in fact,treated as 
those of a person labouring under " temporary men- 
tal derangement," surely the youth who destroys his 
life on account of unrequited love, ought to be con- 
sidered in as mild a light ! Sir Samuel was repre- 
sented, in the evidence taken before the Coroner's 
Jury, to have been inconsolable for the loss of his 
wife ; that this loss had so dreadful an effect upon 
his mind, that it bereft him of his reason, made life 
insupportable, and led him to commit the act of sui- 
cide : and, on this ground alone, his remains and his 
estate were rescued from the awful, though just and 
wise, sentence of the law. But, unfortunately for 
the reputation of the administration of that just and 
wise law, there had been, only about two years be- 
fore, a poor man, at Manchester, buried in cross- 
roads, and under circumstances which entitled his 
remains to mercy much more clearly than in the 
case of Sir Samuel Romilly. 

83. This unfortunate youth, whose name was 
Smith, and who was a shoemaker, was in love with 
a young woman, who, in spite of all his importuni- 
ties and his proofs of ardent passion, refused to 
marry him, and even discovered her liking for ano- 
ther ; and he, unable to support life, accompanied 
by the thought of her being in possession of any 
body but himself, put an end to his life by the 
means of a rope. If, in any case, we are to presume 
the existence of insanity ; if, in any case, we are led 
to believe the thing without positive proof; if, in 
any case,4here can be an apology in human nature 
itself, for such an act ; this was that case. We all 
know (as I observed at the time ;) that is to say, all 
of us who cannot wait to calculate upon the gaina 
and losses of the affair ; all of us, except those who 
are endowed with this provident frigidity, know well 
what youthful love is ; and what its torments are, 
when accompanied by even the smallest portion of 
Jealousy. Every man, and especially every English- 



III.] TO A LOVER. 75 

man (for here we seldom love or hate by halves,) 
will recollect how many mad pranks he has played ; 
how many wild and ridiculous things he has said 
and done between the age of sixteen and that of 
twenty-two ; how many times a kind glance has 
scattered all his reasoning and resolutions to the 
winds ; how many times a cool look has plunged 
him into the deepest misery ! Poor Smith who was 
at this age of love and madness, might, surely, be 
presumed to have done the deed in a moment of 
" temporary menial derangement." He was an ob- 
ject of compassion in every humane breast : he had 
parents and brethren and kindred and friends to 
lament his death, and to feel shame at the disgrace 
inflicted on his lifeless body : yet, HE was pronoun- 
ced to be afelo de se, or self murderer, and his body 
was put into a hole by the way -side, with a stake 
driven down through it ; while that of Eomii.ly had 
mercy extended to it, on the ground that the act had 
been occasioned by " temporary mental derange- 
merit," caused by his grief for the death of his wife ! 
84. To reason with passion like that of the unfor- 
tunate Smith, is perfectly useless ; you may, with as 
much chance of success, reason and remonstrate 
with the winds or the waves : if you make impres- 
sion, it lasts but for a moment: your effort, like an 
inadequate stoppage of waters, only adds, in the end, 
to the violence of the torrent : the current must have 
and will have its course, be the consequences what 
they may. In cases not quite so decided, absence, 
the sight of new faces, the sound of new voices, ge- 
nerally serve, if not as a radical cure, as a mitigation, 
at least, of the disease. But, the worst of it is, that, 
on this point, we have the girls (and women too) 
against us ! For they look upon it as right that 
every lover should be a little maddish ; and, every 
attempt to rescue him from the thraldom imposed 
by their charms, they look upon as an overt act of 
treason against their natural sovereignty. No girl 
ever liked a young man less for his having done 
things foolish and wild and ridiculous, provided she 



76 cobbett's advice [Letter 

was sure that love of her had been the cause : let 
her but v * satisfied upon this score, and there are 
very f"w things which she will not forgive. And, 
though wholly unconscious of the fact, she is a 
great and sound philosopher after all. For, from 
the nature of things, the rearing of a family always 
has been, is, and must ever be, attended with cares 
and troubles, which must infallibly produce, at times, 
feelings to be combated and overcome by nothing 
short of that ardent affection which first brought the 
parties together. So that, talk as long as Parson 
Malthus likes about " moral restraint ;" and report 
as long as the Committees of Parliament please 
about preventing "premature and improvident mar- 
riages" amongst the labouring classes, the. passion 
that they would restrain, while it is necessary to 
the existence of mankind, is the greatest of all the 
compensations for the inevitable cares, troubles, 
hardships, and sorrows of life; and, as to the mar- 
riages ■, if they could once be rendered universally 
provident, every generous sentiment would quickly 
be banished from the world. 

85. The other description of lovers, with whom 
it is useless to reason, are those who love according 
to the rides of arithmetic, or who measure their ma- 
trimonial expectations by the chain of the land-sur- 
veyor. These are not love and marriage ; they are 
bargain and sale. Young men will naturally, and 
almost necessarily, fix their choice on young women 
in their own rank in life ; because from habit and 
intercourse they will know them best. But, if the 
length of the girl's purse, present or contingent, be 
a consideration with the man, or the length of his 
purse, present or contingent, be a consideration with 
her, it is an affair of bargain and sale. I know that 
kings, princes, and princesses are, in respect of mar- 
riage, restrained by the law ; I know that nobles, if 
not thus restrained by positive law, are restrained, 
in fact, by the very nature of their order. And here 
is a disadvantage which, as far as real enjoyment of 
fife is concerned, more than counterbalances all the 



III. J TO A LOVER. 77 

advantages that they possess over the rest of the 
community. This disadvantage, generally speaking, 
pursues rank and riches downwards, till you ap- 
proach very nearly to that numerous class who live 
by manual labour, becoming, however, less and less 
as you descend. You generally find even very vul- 
gar rich men making a sacrifice of their natural and 
rational taste to their mean and ridiculous pride, and 
thereby providing for themselves an ample supply 
of misery for life. By preferring "provident mar- 
riages" to marriages of love, they think to secure 
themselves against all the evils of poverty; but if 
poverty come, and come it may, and frequently does, 
in spite of the best laid plans, and best modes of 
conduct; if poverty come, then where is the counter- 
balance for that ardent mutual affection, which trou- 
bles, and losses, and crosses always increase rather 
than diminish, and which, amidst all the calamities 
that can befall a man, whispers to his heart, that his 
best possession is still left him unimpaired ? The 
Worcestershire Baronet, who has had to endure 
the sneers of fools on account of his marriage with 
a beautiful and virtuous servant maid, would, were 
the present ruinous measures of the Government to 
drive him from his mansion to a cottage, still have 
a source of happiness; while many of those, who 
might fall in company with him, would, in addition 
to all their other troubles, have, perhaps, to endure 
the reproaches of wives to whom poverty, or even 
humble life, would be insupportable. 

86. If marrying for the sake of money be, under 
any circumstances, despicable, if not disgraceful ; if 
it be, generally speaking, a species of legal prostitu- 
tion, only a little less shameful than that which, 
under some governments, is openly licensed for the 
sake of a tax; if this be the case generally, what 
ought to be said of a young man, who, in the hey- 
day of youth, should couple himself on to a libidi- 
nous woman, old enough, perhaps, to be his grand- 
mother, ugly as the night-mare, offensive alike to 
the sight and the smell, and who should pretend to 
7* 



78 coebett's advice [Letter 

love her too: and all this merely for the sake of her 
money ? Why, it ought, and it, doubtless, would be 
said of him, that his conduct was a libel on both man 
and woman-kind ; that his name ought, for ever, to 
be synonymous with baseness and nastiness, and 
that in no age and in no nation, not marked by a 
general depravity of manners, and total absence of 
all sense of shame, every associate, male or female, 
of such a man, or of his filthy mate, would be held 
in abhorrence. Public morality would drive such a 
hateful pair from society, and strict justice would 
hunt them from the face of the earth. 

87. Buonaparte could not be said to marry for 
money, but his motive was little better. It was for 
dominion, for power, for ambition, and that, too, of 
the most contemptible kind. I knew an American 
Gentleman, with whom Buonaparte had always 
been a great favourite; but the moment the news 
arrived of his divorce and second marriage, he gave 
him up. This piece of grand prostitution was too 
much to be defended. And the truth is, that Buona- 
parte might have dated bis decline from the day of 
that marriage. My American friend said, " If I had 
been he, I would, in the first place, have married the 
poorest and prettiest girl in all France. 5 ' If he had 
done this, he would, in all probability, have now been 
on an imperial throne, instead of being eaten by 
worms, at the bottom of a very deep hole in Saint 
Helena ; whence, however, his bones convey to the 
world the moral, that to marry for money, for ambi- 
tion, or from any motive other than the one pointed 
out by affection, is not the road to glory, to happi- 
ness, or to peace. 

88. Let me now turn from these two descriptions 
of lovers, with whom it is useless to reason, and ad- 
dress myself to you, my reader, whom I suppose to 
be a real lover, but not so smitten as to be bereft of 
your reason. You should never forget, that marri- 
age, which is a state that every young person ought 
to have in view, is a thing to last for life ; and that, 
generally speaking, it is to make life happy or raise- 



III. I 'to a lover. 79 

rable; for, though a man may bring his mind to 
something nearly a state of indifference, even that is 
misery, except with those who can hardly be reck- 
oned amongst sensitive beings. Marriage brings 
numerous cares, which are amply compensated by 
the more numerous delights which are their com- 
panions. But to have the delights, as well as the 
cares, the choice of the partner must be fortunate. 
I say fortunate ; for, after all, love, real love, impas- 
sioned affection, is an ingredient so absolutely ne- 
cessary, that no perfect reliance can be placed on the 
judgment. Yet, the judgment may do something; 
reason may have some influence ; and, therefore, I 
here offer you my advice with regard to the exercise 
of that reason. 

89. The things which you ought to desire in a 
wife are, 1. Chastity ; 2. sobriety ; 3. industry ; 4. fru- 
gality ; 5. cleanliness ; 6. knowledge of domestic af- 
fairs ; 7. good temper ; 8. beauty. 

90. I. Chastity, perfect modesty, in word, deed, 
and even thought, is so essential, that, without it, no 
female is fit to be a wife. It is not enough that a 
young woman abstain from every thing approach- 
ing towards indecorum in her behaviour towards 
men ; it is, with me, not enough that she cast down her 
eyes, or turn aside her head with a smile, when she 
hears an indelicate allusion : she ought to appear not 
to understand it, and to receive from it no more im- 
pression than if she were a post. A loose woman 
is a disagreeable acquaintance: what must she be, 
then, as a wife ? Love is so blind, and vanity is so busy 
in persuading us that our own qualities will be suf- 
ficient to ensure fidelity, that we are very apt to think 
nothing, or, at any rate, very little, of trifling symp- 
toms of levity ; but if such symptoms show them- 
selves now, we may be well assured, that we shall 
never possess the power of effecting a cure. If pru- 
dery mem false modesty, it is to be despised ; but if it 
mean modesty pushed to the utmost extent, I con- 
fess that I like it. Your "free and hearty" girls I 
have liked very well to talk and laugh with ; but 



80 cobbett's advice [Lettet 

never, for one moment, did it enter into my mind 
that I could have endured a " free and hearty" girl 
for a wife. The thing is, I repeat, to last for life ; 
it is to be a counterbalance for troubles and misfor- 
tunes ; and it must, therefore, be perfect, or it had 
better not be at all. To say that one despises jealousy 
is foolish : it is a thing to be lamented ; but the very 
elements of it ought to be avoided. Gross indeed is 
the beast, for he is unworthy of the name of man ; 
nasty indeed is the wretch, who can even entertain 
the thought of putting himself between a pair of 
sheets with a wife of whose infidelity he possesses 
the proof; but, in such cases, a man ought to be very 
slow to believe appearances; and he ought not to de- 
cide against his wife but upon the clearest proof. 
The last, and, indeed, the only effectual safeguard is, 
to begin well ; to make a good choice ; to let the 
beginning be such as to render infidelity and jealousy 
next to impossible. If you begin in grossness ; if you 
couple yourself on to one with whom you have 
taken liberties, infidelity is the natural and just con- 
sequence. When the Peer of the realm, who had 
not been over-fortunate in his matrimonial affairs, 
was urging Major Cartwright to seek for nothing 
more than u moderate reform," the Major (forgetting 
the domestic circumstances of his Lords.hip) asked 
him how he should relish "moderate chastity" in a 
wife ! The bare use of the two words, thus coupled 
together, is sufficient to excite disgust. Yet with 
this "moderate chastity" you must be, and ought to 
be, content, if you have entered into marriage with 
one, in whom you have ever discovered the slightest 
approach towards lewdness, either in deeds, words, 
or looks. To marry has beerf your own act ; you 
have made the contract for your own gratification ; 
you knew the character of the other party ; and the 
children, if any, or the community, are not to be the 
sufferers for your gross and corrupt passion. " Mo- 
derate chastity" is all that you have, in fact, con- 
tracted for : you have it, and you have no reason to 
complain. When I come to address myself to the 



III.] TO A LOVER. 81 

husband, I shall have to say more upon this subject, 
which I dismiss for the present with observing, that 
my observation has convinced me, that, when fami- 
lies are rendered unhappy from the existence of 
" moderate chastity," the fault, first or last, has been 
in the man, ninety-nine times out of every hundred. 
91. Sobriety. By sobriety I do not mean merely 
an absence of drinking to a state of intoxication ; for, 
if that be hateful in a man, what must it be in a wo- 
man ! There is a Latin proverb, which says, that 
wine, that is to say, intoxication, brings forth truth. 
Whatever it may do in this way, in men, in women 
it is sure, unless prevented by age or by salutary 
ugliness, to produce a moderate, and a very mode- 
rate, portion of chastity. There never was a drunken 
woman, a woman who loved strong drink, who was 
chaste, if the opportunity of being the contrary pre- 
sented itself to her. There are cases where health 
requires wine, and even small portions of more ar- 
dent liquor ; but (reserving what I have farther to 
say on this point, till I come to the conduct of the 
husband) young unmarried women can seldom stand 
in need of these stimulants ; and, at any rate, only in 
cases of well-known definite ailments. Wine ! " only 
a glass or two of wine at dinner, or so !" As soon as 
have married a girl whom I had thought liable to be 
persuaded to drink, habitually, " only a glass or two 
of w T ine at dinner, or so ;" as soon as have married 
such a girl, I would have taken a strumpet from the 
streets. And it has not required age to give me this 
way of thinking : it has always been rooted in my 
mind from the moment that I began to think the girls 
prettier than posts. There are few things so dis- 
gusting as a guzzling woman. A gormandizing one 
is bad enough; but, one who tips off the liquor with 
an appetite, and exclaims "good! good /" by a smack 
of her lips, is fit for nothing but a brothel. There 
may be cases, amongst the 7kzr<i-labouring women, 
such as reapers, for instance, especially when they 
have children at the breast; there may be cases, 
where very hard-working women may stand in need 



82 cobbett's advice ("Letter 

of a little good beer ; beer, which, if taken in immo- 
derate quantities, would produce intoxication. But, 
while I only allow the possibility of the existence of 
such cases, I deny the necessity of any strong drink 
at all in every other case. Yet, in this metropolis, it is 
the general custom for tradesmen, journeymen, and 
even labourers,to have regularly on their tables the big 
brewers' poison, twice in every day, and at the rate 
of not less than a pot to a person, women, as well as 
men, as the allowance for the day. A pot of poison 
a day, at five pence the pot, amounts to seven pounds 
and two shillings in the year ! Man and wife suck 
down, in this way, four teen pounds four shillings a 
year ! Is it any wonder that they are clad in rags, 
that they are skin and bone, and that their children 
are covered with filth ? 

92. But by the word Sobriety, in a young wo- 
man, I mean a great deal more than even a rigid ab- 
stinence from that love of drink, which I am not to 
suppose, and which I do not believe, to exist any 
thing like generally amongst the young women of 
this country. I mean a great deal more than this ; 
I mean sobriety of conduct The word sober, and its 
derivatives, do not confine themselves to matters of 
drink: they express steadiness, serioicsness, careful- 
ness, scrupulous propriety of conduct ; and they are 
thus used amongst country people in many parts of 
England. When a Somersetshire fellow makes too 
free with a girl, she reproves him with, " Come ! be 
sober' /" And when we wish a team, or any thing, 
to be moved on steadily and with great care, we 
cry out to the carter, or other operator, " Soberly, 
soberly." Now, this species of sobriety is a great 
qualification in the person you mean to make your 
wife. Skipping, capering, romping, rattling girls 
are very amusing where all costs and other conse- 
quences are out of the question ; and they may be- 
come sober in the Somersetshire sense of the word. 
But while you have no certainty of this, you have a 
presumptive argument on the other side. To be 
sure, when girls are mere children, they are to play 



III.] TO A LOVER. 83 

and romp like children. But, when they arrive at 
that age which turns their thoughts towards that 
sort of connexion which is to be theirs for life; 
when they begin to think of having the command 
of a house, however small or poor, it is time for 
them to cast away the levity of the child. It is na- 
tural, nor is it very wrong, that I know of, for 
children to like to gad about and to see all sorts of 
strange sights, though I do not approve of this even 
in children : but, if I could not have found a young 
woman (and I am sure I never should have married 
an old one) who I was not sure possessed all the 
qualities expressed by the word sobriety, I should 
have remained a bachelor to the end of that life, 
which, in that case, would, I am satisfied, have ter- 
minated without my having performed a thousandth 
part of those labours which have been, and are, in 
spite of all political prejudice, the wonder of all who 
have seen, or heard of, them. Scores of gentlemen 
have, at different times, expressed to me their sur- 
prise, that I was " always in spirits ;" that nothing 
pulled me down ; and the truth is, that, throughout 
nearly forty years of troubles, losses, and crosses, 
assailed all the while by more numerous and power- 
ful enemies than ever man had before to contend 
with, and performing, at the same time, labours great- 
er than man ever before performed ; all those labours 
requiring mental exertion, and some of them men- 
tal exertion of the highest order ; the truth is, that, 
throughout the whole of this long time of troubles 
and of labours, I have never known a single hour 
of real anxiety ; the troubles have been no troubles 
to me ; I have not known what lowness of spirits 
meaned ; have been more gay, and felt less care, 
than any bachelor that ever lived. " You are al- 
ways in spirits, Cobbett !" To be sure ; for why 
should I not ? Poverty I have always set at defi- 
ance, and I could, therefore, defy the temptations of 
riches ; and, as to home and children, I had taken 
care to provide myself with an inexhaustible store of 
that " sobriety," which I am so strongly recommend- 



84 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ing my reader to provide himself with ; or, if he can- 
not do that, to deliberate long before he ventures on 
the life-enduring matrimonial voyage. This sobri- 
ety is a title to trust-worthiness ; and this, young 
man, is the treasure that you ought to prize far 
above all others. Miserable is the husband, who, 
when he crosses the threshold of his house, carries 
with him doubts and fears and suspicions. I do not 
mean suspicions of the fidelity of his wife, but of her 
care, frugality, attention to his interests, and to the 
health and morals of his children. Miserable is the 
man, who cannot leave all unlocked, and who is not 
sure, quite certain, that all is as safe as if grasped 
in his own hand. He is the happy husband, who 
can go away, at a moment's warning, leaving his 
house and his family with as little anxiety as he 
quits an inn, not more fearing to find, on his return, 
any thing wrong, than he would fear a discontinu- 
ance of the rising and setting of the sun, and if, as 
in my case, leaving books and papers all lying about 
at sixes and sevens, finding them arranged in pro- 
per order, and the room, during the lucky interval, 
freed from the effects of his and his ploughman's or 
gardener's dirty shoes. Such a man has no real 
cares ; such a man has no troubles ; and this is the 
sort of life that I have led. I have had all the nume- 
rous and indescribable delights of home and child- 
ren, and, at the same time, all the bachelor's freedom 
from domestic cares ; and, to this cause, far more 
than to any other, my readers owe those labours, 
which I never could have performed, if even the 
slightest degree of want of confidence at home had 
ever once entered into my mind. 

93. But, in order to possess this precious trust- 
worthiness, you must, if you can, exercise your rea- 
son in the choice of your partner. If she be vain of 
her person, very fond of dress, fond of flattery 
at all, given to gadding about, fond of what are 
called parties of pleasures, or coquetish, though in 
the least degree ; if either of these, she never will 
be trust-worthy : she cannot change her nature ; 



III.] TO A LOVER. 85 

and, if you marry her, you will be unjust if 
you expect trust-worthiness at her hands. But, 
besides this, even if you find in her that innate 
" sobriety" of which I have been speaking, there 
requires, on your part, and that at once too, con- 
fidence and trust without any limit. Confidence 
is, in this case, nothing unless it be reciprocal. 
To have a trust-worthy wife, you must begin 
by showing her, even before you are married, that 
you have no suspicions, no fears, no doubts, with 
regard to her. Many a man has been discarded by 
a virtuous girl, merely on account of his querulous 
conduct. All women despise jealous men ; and, if 
they marry such, their motive is other than that 
of affection. Therefore, begin by proofs of unlimited 
confidence ; and, as example may serve to assist 
precept, and as I never have preached that which I 
have not practised, I will give you the history of 
my own conduct in this respect. 

94. When I first saw my wife, she was thirteen 
years oZrZ,and I was within about a month of twenty-one. 
She was the daughter of a Serjeant of artillery, and 
I was the Seijeant-Major of a regiment of foot, both 
stationed in forts near the city of St. John in the 
Province of New-Brunswick. I sat in the room 
with her, for about an hour, in company with 
others, and I made up my mind that she was the very 
girl for me. That I thought her beautiful is certain, 
for that 1 had always said should be an indispensa- 
ble qualification ; but I saw in her what I deemed 
marks of that sobriety of conduct of which I have said 
so much, and which has been by far the greatest 
blessing of my life. It was now dead of winter, and, of 
course, the snow several feet deep on the ground, 
and the weather piercing cold. It was my habit, 
when I had done my morning's writing, to go out 
at break of day to take a walk on a hill at the foot of 
which our barracks lay. In about three mornings 
after I had first seen her, I had, by an invitation to 
breakfast with me, got up two young men to joir» 
me in my walk \ and our road lay by the house of 
8 



86 cobbett's advice [Letter 

her father and mother. It was hardly light, but she 
was out on the snow, scrubbing out a washing-tub. 
" That's the girl for me," said J, when we had got 
out of her hearing. One of these young men came 
to England soon afterwards ; and he, who keeps an 
inn in Vforkshire, came over to Preston, at the time 
of the election, to verify whether I were the same 
man. When he found ttiat I was, he appeared sur- 
prised ; but what was his surprise, when I told him, 
that those tall young men, whom he saw around 
me, were the sans of that pretty little girl that he 
and I saw scrubbing out the washing-tub on the snow 
in New-Brunswick in the morning. 

95. From the day that I first spoke to her, I never 
had a thought of her ever being the wife of any other 
man, more than I had a thought of her being trans- 
formed into a chest of drawers ; and I formed my 
resolution at once, to marry her as soon as we could 
get permission, and to get out of the army as soon 
as I could. So that this matter was, at once, settled 
as firmly as if written in the book of fate. At the 
end of about six months, my regiment, and I along 
with it, were removed to Frederickton, a distance 
of a hundred miles, up the river of St. John ; and, 
which was worse, the artillery were expected to go 
off to England a year or two before our regiment ! 
The artillery went, and she along with them ; and 
now it was that I acted a part becoming a real and 
sensible lover. I was aware, that, when she got to 
that gay place, Woolwich, the house of her father 
and mother, necessarily visited by numerous persons 
not the most select, might become unpleasant to her, 
and I did not like, besides, that she should continue 
to work hard. I had saved a hundred and fifty gui- 
neas, the earnings of my early hours, in writing for 
the paymaster, the quartermaster, and others, in ad- 
dition to the savings of my own pay. I sent her all 
my money, before she sailed ; and wrote to her to beg 
of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire 
a lodging with respectable people : and, at any rate, 
not to spare the money, by any means ; but to buy 



III. J TO A LOVER 87 

herself good clothes, and to live without hard work, 
until I arrived in England ; and I, in order to induce 
her to lay out the money, told her that I should get 
plenty more before I came home. 

96. As the malignity of the devii would have it, 
we were kept abroad two years longer than our time, 
Mr. Pitt (England not being so tame then as she is 
now) having knocked up a dust with Spain about 
Noolka Sound. Oh, how I cursed Nootka Sound, 
and poor bawling Pitt toe, I am afraid ! At the end 
of four years, however, home I came ; landed at 
Portsmouth, and got my discharge from the army 
by the great kindness of poor Lord Edward Fitz- 
gerald, who was then the Major of my regiment. 
I found my little girl a servant of all work, (and hard 
work it was,) vX five founds a year, in the house of 
a Captain Brisac ; and, without hardly saying a 
word about the matter, she put into my hands the 
whole of my hundred and fifty guineas unbroken I 

97. Need 1 tell the reader what my feelings were? 
Need I tell kind-hearted English parents what effect 
this anecdote must have produced on the minds of 
our children ? Need 1 attempt to describe what ef- 
fect this example ought to have on every young 
woman who shall do me the honour to read this 
book? Admiration of her conduct, and self-gratu- 
lation on this indubitable proof of the soundness of 
my own judgment were now added to my love of 
her beautiful person. 

98. Now, I do not say that there are not many 
young women of this country who would, under 
similar circumstances, have acted as my wife did in 
this case; on the contrary, I hope, and do sincerely 
believe, that there are. Eut when her age is con- 
sidered ; when we reflect, that she was living in a 
place crowded, literally crowded, with gayly- dressed 
and handsome young men, many of whom really 
far richer and in higher rank than I was, and scores 
of them ready to offer her their hand ; when we re- 
flect that she was living amongst young w omen who 
put upon their backs every shilling that they could 



88 cobbett's advice [Letter 

come at ; when we see her keeping the bag of gold 
untouched, and working hard to provide herself with 
but mere necessary apparel, and doing this while 
she was passing from fourteen to eighteen years of 
age; when we view the whole of the circumstances, 
we must say that here is an example, which, while 
it reflects honour on her sex, ought to have weight 
with every young woman whose eyes or ears this 
relation shall reach. 

99. If any young man imagine, that this great 
sobriety of conduct in young women must be accom- 
panied with seriousness approaching to gloom, he is, 
according to my experience and observation, very 
much deceived. The contrary is the fact ; for I have 
found that as, amongst men, your jovial companions 
are, except over the bottle, the dullest and most in- 
sipid of souls; so, amongst women, the gay, the 
rattling and laughing are, unless some party of plea- 
sure, or something out of domestic life, is going on, 
generally in the dumps and blue-devils. Some 5^'- 
mulus is always craved after by this description of 
women ; some sight to be seen, something to see or 
to hear other than what is to be found at home, 
which, as it affords no incitement, nothing " to raise 
and keep up the spirits," is looked upon merely as a 
place to be at for want of a better ; merely a place 
for eating and drinking, and the like ; merely a hid- 
ing place, whence to sally in search of enjoyments. 
A greater curse than a wife of this description, it 
would be somewhat difficult to find ; and, in your 
character of Lover, you are to provide against it. 
I hate a dull, melancholy, moping thing : I could not 
have existed in the same house with such a thing 
for a single month. The mopers are, too, all giggle 
at other times : the gaiety is for others, and the mo- 
ping for the husband, to comfort him, happy man, 
when he is alone: plenty of smiles and of badinage 
for others, and for him to participate with others ; 
but the moping is reserved exclusively for him. One 
hour she is capering about, as if rehearsing a jig ; 
%nd, the next, sighing to the motion of a lazy needle, 



III.l TO A LOVER. 89 

or weeping over a novel : and this is called senti- 
ment ! Music, indeed ! Give me a mother singing 
to her clean and fat and rosy baby, and making the 
house ring with her extravagant and hyperbolical 
encomiums on it. That is the music which is " the 
food of love;" and not the formal, pedantic noises, 
an affectation of skill in which is now-a-days the ruin 
of half the young couples in the middle rank of life. 
Let any man observe, as I so frequently have, with 
delight, the excessive fondness of the labouring peo- 
ple for their children. Let him observe with what 
pride they dress them out on a Sunday, with means 
deducted from their own scanty meals. Let him 
observe the husband, who has toiled all the week 
like a horse, nursing the baby, while the wife is pre- 
paring the bit of dinner. Let him observe them 
both abstaining from a sufficiency, lest the children 
should feel the pinchings of hunger. Let him ob- 
serve, in short, the whole of their demeanour, the 
real mutual affection, evinced, not in words, but in 
unequivocal deeds. Let him observe these things, 
and, having then cast a look at the lives of the great 
and wealthy, he will say, with me, that, when a man 
is choosing his partner for life, the dread of poverty 
ought to be cast to the winds. A labourer's cottage, 
on a Sunday ; the husband or wife having a baby in 
arms, looking at two or three older ones playing be- 
tween the flower-borders going from the wicket to 
the door, is, according to my taste, the most interest- 
ing object that eyes ever beheld ; and, it is an object 
to be beheld in no country upon earth but England. 
In France, a labourer's cottage means a shed with a 
dungheap before the door ; and it means much about 
the same in America, where it is wholly inexcusable. 
In riding once, about five years ago, from Petworth 
to Horsham, on a Sunday in the afternoon, I came 
to a solitary cottage which stood at about twenty 
yards distance from the road. There was the wife 
with the baby in her arms, the husband teaching 
another child to walk, while four more were at play 
before them. I stopped and looked at them for some 
8* 



90 cobbett's advice [Letter 

time, and then, turning my horse, rode up to the 
wicket, getting into talk by asking the distance to 
Horsham. I found that the man worked chiefly in 
the woods, and that he was doing pretty well. The 
wife was then only twenty-two, and the man only 
twenty-five. She was a pretty woman, even for 
Sussex, which, not excepting Lancashire, contains 
the prettiest women in England. He was a very fine 
and stout young man. " Why," said I, " how many- 
children do you reckon to have at last ?" "I do not 
care how many," said the man : " God never sends 
mouths without sending meat." " Did you ever 
hear," said I, "of one Parson Malthus?" " No, 
sir." " Why, if he were to hear of your works, he 
would be outrageous ; for he wants an act of parlia- 
ment to prevent poor people from marrying young, 
and from having such lots of children." " Oh ! the 
brute!" exclaimed the wife; while the husband 
laughed, thinking that I was joking. I asked the 
man whether he had ever had relief from the pa- 
rish ; and upon his answering in the negative, I 
took out my purse, took from it enough to bait my 
horse at Horsham, and to clear my turnpikes to 
Worth, whither I was going in order to stay awhile, 
and gave him all the rest. Now, is it not a shame, 
is it not a sin of all sins, that people like these should, 
by acts of the government, be reduced to such mise- 
ry as to be induced to abandon their homes and their 
country, to seek, in a foreign land, the means of 
preventing themselves and their children from star- 
ving ? And this has been, and now is, actually the 
case with many such families in this same county of 
Sussex ! 

100. An ardent-minded young man (who, by-the- 
by, will, as I am afraid, have been wearied by this 
rambling digression) may fear, that this great so- 
briety of conduct in a young woman, for which I have 
been so strenuously contending, argues a want of 
that warmth, which he naturally so much desires ; 
and, if my observation and experience warranted the 
entertaining of this fear, I should say, had I to live 



III. J TO A LOVER. 91 

my life over again, give me the warmth, and I will 
stand my chance as to the rest. But, this observa- 
tion and this experience tell me the contrary ; they 
tell me that levity is, ninety-nine times out of a hun- 
dred, the companion of a want of ardent feeling. 
Prostitutes never love, and, for the far greater part, 
never did. Their passion, which is more mere ani- 
mal than any thing else, is easily gratified ; they, 
like rakes, change not only without pain, but with 
pleasure ; that is to say, pleasure as great as they can 
enjoy. Women of light minds have seldom any ar- 
dent passion; love is a mere name, unless confined 
to one object ; and young women, in whom levity of 
conduct is observable, will not be thus restricted. I 
do not, however, recommend a young man to be too 
severe in judging, where the conduct does not go be- 
yond mere levity, and is not bordering on loose con- 
duct ; for something depends here upon constitution 
and animal spirits, and something also upon the man- 
ners of the country. That levity, which, in a French 
girl, I should not have thought a great deal of, would 
have frightened me away from an English or an 
American girl. When I was in France, just after I was 
married, there happened to be amongst our acquaint- 
ance a gay, sprightly girl, of about seventeen. I was 
remonstrating with her, one day, on the facility with 
which she seemed to shift her smiles from object to 
object; and she, stretching one arm out in an upward 
direction, the other in a downward direction, raising 
herself upon one foot, leaning her body on one side, 
and thus throwing herself into a flying attitude, an- 
swered my grave lecture by singing, in a very sweet 
voice (significantly bowing her head and smiling at 
the same time,) the following lines from the vaude- 
ville, in the play of Figaro : 

Si l'amour a des ailes, 
N'est ce pas pour voltiger? 

That is, if love has wings, is it not to flutter* about 
with 1 The wit, argument, and manner, a get her. 
silenced me. She, after I left France, married aver^ 
worthy man, has had a large family, and has been 



92 cobbett's advice [Letter 

and is, a most excellent wife and mother. But that 
which does sometimes well in France, does not do 
here at all. Our manners are more grave : steadi- 
ness is the rule, and levity the exception. Love may 
voltige in France ; but, in England, it cannot, with 
safety to the lover : and it is a truth which, I believe, 
no man of attentive observation will deny, that, as, in 
general, English wives are more warm in their con- 
jugal attachments than those of France, so, with re- 
gard to individuals, that those English women who 
are the most light in their manners, and who are the 
least constant in their attachments, have the smallest 
portion of that warmth, that indescribable passion 
which God has given to human beings as the great 
counterbalance to all the sorrows and sufferings of 
life. 

101. Industry. By industry, I do not mean merely 
labour iousness, merely labour or activity of body, 
for purposes of gain or of saving ; for there may be 
industry amongst those who have more money than 
they know well what to do with : and there may be 
lazy ladies, as well as lazy farmers' and tradesmen's 
wives. There is no state of life in which industry 
in the wife is not necessary to the happiness and 
prosperity of the family, at the head of the house- 
hold affairs of which she is placed. If she be lazy, 
there will be lazy servants, and, which is a great deal 
worse, children habitually lazy : every thing, how- 
ever necessary to be done, will be put off to the last 
moment: then it will be done badly, and, in many 
cases, not at all : the dinner will be too late ; the 
journey or the visit will be tardy ; inconveniences of 
all sorts will be continually arising : there will al- 
ways be a heavy arrear of things unperformed ; 
and this, even amongst the most wealthy of all, is a 
great curse; for, if they have no business imposed 
upon them by necessity, they make business for 
themselves; life would be unbearable without it: 
and therefore a lazy woman must always be a curse, 
be her rank or station what it may. 

102. But, who is to tell whether a girl will make 



III. I TO A LOVER. 93 

an industrious woman ? How is the pur-blind lover 
especially, to be able to ascertain whether she, whose 
smiles and dimples and bewitching lips have half 
bereft him of his senses; how is he to be able to 
judge, from any thing that he can see, whether the 
beloved object will be industrious or lazy '? Why, it is 
very difficult; it is a matter that reason has very little to 
do with ; but there are, nevertheless, certain outward 
and visible signs, from which a man, not wholly de- 
prived of the use of his reason, may form a pretty ac- 
curate judgment as to this matter. It was a story in Phi- 
ladelphia, some years ago, that a young man, who 
was courting one of three sisters, happened to be on 
a visit to her, when all the three were present, and 
when one said to the others, " I wonder where our 
needle is." Upon which he withdrew, as soon as was 
consistent with the rules of politeness, resolved never 
to think more of a girl who possessed a needle only 
in partnership, and who, it appeared, was not too 
well informed as to the place where even that share 
was deposited. 

103. This was, to be sure, a very flagrant instance 
of a want of industry; for, if the third part of the 
use of a needle satisfied her when single, it was rea- 
sonable to anticipate that marriage would banish that 
useful implement altogether. But such instances are 
seldom suffered to come in contact with the eyes and 
ears of the lover, to disguise all defects from whom 
is the great business, not only of the girl herself, but 
of her whole family. There are, however, certain 
outward signs, which, if attended to with care, will 
serve as pretty sure guides. And, first, if you find 
the tongue lazy, you may be nearly certain that the 
hands and feet are the same. By laziness of the 
tongue I do not mean silence ; I do not mean an ab- 
sence of talk, for that is, in most cases, very good ; 
but, I mean, a slow and soft utterance ; a sort of 
sighing out of the words instead of speaking them ; 
a sort of letting the sounds fall out, as if the party 
were sick at stomach. The pronunciation of an in- 
dustrious person is generally quick^ distinct, and the 



94 cobbett's advice [Letter 

voice, if not strong, firm at the least. Not mascu- 
line ; as feminine as possible; not a croak nor a 
bawl, but a quick, distinct, and sound voice. No- 
thing is much more disgusting than what the sensi- 
ble country people call a maw-mouthed woman. A 
maw-mouthed man is bad enough : he is sure to be 
a lazy fellow : but, a woman of this description, in 
addition to her laziness, soon becomes the most dis- 
gusting of mates. In this whole world nothing is 
much more hateful than a female's under jaw, lazily 
moving up and down, and letting out a long string 
of half-articulate sounds. It is impossible for any 
man, who has any spirit in him, to love such a wo- 
man for any length of time. 

104. Look a little, also, at the labours of the teeth, 
for these correspond with those of the other mem- 
bers of the body, and with the operations of the 
mind. " Quick at meals, quick at work" is a saying 
as old as the hills, in this, the most industrious na- 
tion upon earth ; and never was there a truer saying. 
But fashion comes in here, and decides that you 
shall not be quick at meals ; that you shall sit and 
be carrying on the affair of eating for an hour, or 
more. Good God ! what have I not suffered on this 
account ! However, though she must sit as long as 
the rest, and though she must join in the perform- 
ance (for it is a real performance) unto the end of 
the last scene, she cannot make her teeth abandon 
their character. She may, and must, suffer the slice 
to linger on the plate, and must make the supply 
slow, in order to fill up the time ; but when she does 
bite, she cannot well disguise what nature has taught 
her to do ; and you mav be assured, that if her jaws 
move in slow time, and if she rather squeeze than 
bite the food ; if she so deal with it as to leave you 
in doubt as to whether she mean finally to admit or 
reject it ; if she deal with it thus, set her down as 
being, in her very nature, incorrigibly lazy. Never 
mind the pieces of needle-work, the tambouring, the 
maps of the world made by her needle. Get to see 
her at work upon a mutton-chop, or a bit of bread 



III.] TO A LOVER. 95 

and cheese ; and, if she deal quickly with these, you 
have a pretty good security for that activity, that 
stirring industry without which a wife is a burden 
instead of a help. And, as to lave, it cannot live for 
more than a month or two (in the breast of a man 
of spirit) towards a lazy woman. 

105. Another mark of industry is, a quick step, 
and a somewhat heavy tread, showing that the loot 
comes down with a hearty good will ; and if the 
body lean a little forward, and the eyes keep steadily 
in the same direction, while the feet are going, so 
much the better, for these discover earnestness to 
arrive at the intended point. I do not like, and I 
never liked, your sauntering, soft-stepping girls, 
who move as if they were perfectly indifferent as to ' 
the result ; and, as to the love part of the story, who- 
ever expects ardent and lasting affection from one of 
these sauntering girls, will, when too late, find his 
mistake : the character runs the same ail the way 
through ; and no man ever yet saw a sauntering 
girl, who did not, when married, make a mawkish 
wife, and a cold-hearted mother ; cared very little 
for either by husband or children ; and, of course, 
having no store of those blessings which are the 
natural resources to apply to in sickness and in old 
age. 

106. Early-rising is another mark of industry ; 
and though, in the higher stations of life, it may be 
of no importance in a mere pecuniary point of view, it 
is, even there, of importance in other respects ; for 
it is, I should imagine, pretty difficult to keep love 
alive towards a woman who never sees the dew, never 
beholds the rising sun, and who constantly comes 
directly from a reeking bed to the breakfast table, 
and there chews about, without appetite, the choicest 
morsels of human food. A man might, perhaps, 
endure this for a month or two, without be- 
ing disgusted ; but that is ample allowance of time. 
And, as to people in the middle rank of life, where a 
living and a provision for children is to be sought by 
labour of some sort or otb ^\ late rising in the wife 



96 cobbett's advice [Letter 

is certain ruin ; and, never was there yet an early- 
rising wife, who had been a late-rising girl. If 
brought up to late rising, she will like it ; it will be 
her habit ; she will, when married, never want ex- 
cuses for indulging in the habit ; at first she will be 
indulged without bounds ; to make a change after- 
wards will be difficult ; it will be deemed a 
virong done to her ; she will ascribe it to diminished 
affection ; a quarrel must ensue, or, the husband 
must submit to be ruined, or, at the very least, to see 
half the fruit of his labour snored and lounged 
away. And, is this being rigid ? Is it being harsh ; 
is it being hard upon women 1 Is it the offspring 
of the frigid severity of age? It is none of these: 
it arises from an ardent desire to promote the happi- 
ness, and to add to the natural, legitimate, and salu- 
tary influence, of the female sex. The tendency of 
this advice is to promote the preservation of their 
health ; to prolong the duration of their beauty ; to 
cause them to be loved to the last day of their lives ; 
and to give them, during the whole of those lives, 
weight and consequence, of which laziness would 
render them wholly unworthy. 

107. Frugality. This means the contrary of ex* 
travagance. It does not mean stinginess ; it does 
not mean a pinching of the belly, nor a stripping of 
the back ; but it means an abstaining from all unne- 
cessary expenditure, and all unnecessary use, of 
goods of any and of every sort ; and a quality of 
great importance it is whether the rank in life be 
high or low. Some people are, indeed, so rich, they 
have such an overabundance of money and goods, 
that how to get rid of them would, to a looker-on, 
seem to be their only difficult}^. But while the in- 
convenience of even these immense masses is not 
too great to be overcome by a really extravagant 
woman who jumps with joy at a basket of straw- 
berries at a guinea an ounce, and who would not 
give a straw for green peas later in the year than 
January ; while such a dame would lighten the bags 
of a loan-monger, or shorten the rent-roll of half-a- 



III."] TO A LOVER. 07 

dozen peerages amalgamated into one possession, 
she would, with a very little study and application 
of her talent, send a nobleman of ordinary estate to 
the poor-house or the pension list, which last may 
be justly regarded as the poor-book of the aristocra- 
cy. How many noblemen and gentlemen, of fine 
estates, have been ruined and degraded by the ex- 
travagance of their wives! More frequently by 
their own extravagance, perhaps ; but, in nume- 
rous instances, by that of those whose duty it is to 
assist in upholding their stations by husbanding 
their fortunes. 

108. If this be the case amongst the opulent, who 
have estates to draw upon, what must be the conse- 
quences of a want of frugality in the middle and 
lower ranks of life ? Here it must be fatal, and es- 
pecially amongst that description of persons whose 
wives have, in many cases, the receiving as well as 
the expending of money. In such a case, there 
wants nothing but extravagance in the wife to make 
ruin as sure as the arrival of old age. To obtain se- 
curity against this is very difficult ; yet, if the lover 
be not quite blind, he may easily discover a propen- 
sity towards extravagance. The object of his ad- 
dresses will, nine times out of ten, not be the mana- 
ger of a house ; but she must have her dress, and 
other little matters under her control. If she be 
cosily in these ; if, in these, she step above her 
rank, or even to the top of it ; if she purchase &]\ 
she is able to purchase, and prefer the showy to the 
useful, the gay and the fragile to the less sightly and 
more durable, he may be sure that the disposition 
will cling to her through life. If he perceive in her 
a taste for costly food, costly furniture, costly 
amusements ; if he find her love of gratification to 
be bounded only by her want of means : if he find 
her full of admiration of the trappings of the rich, 
and of desire to be able to imitate them, he may be 
pretty sure that she will not spare his purse, when 
once she gets her hand into it ; and, therefore, if he 

9 



98 cobbett's advice [Letter 

can bid adieu to her charms, the sooner he does it 
the better. 

v 109. The outward and visible and vulgar signs of 
extravagance are rings, broaches, bracelets, buckles, 
necklaces, diamonds, (real or mock,) and, in short, 
all the hard-ware which women put upon their per- 
sons. These things may be proper enough in pala- 
ces, or in scenes resembling palaces ; but, when they 
make their appearance amongst people in the middle 
rank of life, where, after all, they only serve to 
show that poverty in the parties which they wish to 
disguise ; when the nasty, mean, tawdry things 
make their appearance in this rank of life, they are 
the sure indications of a disposition that will always 
be straining at what it can never attain. To marry 
a girl of this disposition is really self-destruction. 
You never can have either property or peace. Earn 
her a horse to ride, she will want a gig : earn the 
gig, she will want a chariot : get her that, she will 
long for a coach and fonr : and, from stage to stagey 
she will torment you to the end of her or your days ; 
for, still there will be somebody with a finer equip- 
age than you can give her ; and, as long as this is 
the case, you will never have rest. Reason would 
tell her, that she could never be at the top ; that she 
must stop at some point short of that ; and that, 
therefore, all expenses in the rivalship are so much 
thrown away. But, reason and broaches and brace- 
lets do not go in company : the girl who has not the 
sense to perceive that her person is disfigured, and 
not beautified, by parcels of brass and tin (for they 
are generally little better) and other hardware, stuck 
about her body ; the girl that is so foolish as not to 
perceive, that, when silks and cottons and cambrics, 
in their neatest form, have done their best, nothing 
more is to be done ; the girl that cannot perceive 
this is too great a fool to be trusted with the purse of 
any man. 

110. Cleanliness. This is a capital ingredient ; 
for there never yet was, and there never will be, love 
of long duration, sincere and ardent love, in any 



III. J TO A LOVER. 99 

man, towards a "filthy male.'"' I mean any man in 
England : or in those parts of America where the 
people have descended from the English. I do not 
say. that there are not men enough, even in England, 
to live peaceably and even contentedly, with dirty, 
sluttish women ; for, there are some who seem to 
like the filth well enough. But what I contend for 
is this : that there never can exist, for any length of 
time, ardent affection, in any man towards a woman 
who is filthy either in her person, or in her house 
affairs. Men may be careless as to their own per- 
son ; they may, from the nature of their business, 
or from their want of time to adhere to neatness in 
dress, be slovenly in their own dress and habits ; but, 
they do not relish this in their wives, who must still 
have charms ; and charms and filth do not go to- 
gether. 

111. It is not dress that the husband wants to be 
perpetual : it is not finery ; but cleanliness in every 
thing. The French women dress enough, especially 
when they sally forth. My excellent neighbour, 
Mr. John Tredwell, of Long Island, used to say, 
that the French were " pigs in the parlour, and pea- 
cocks on the promenade j" an alliteration which 
" Canning's self" might have envied ! This occa- 
sional cleanliness is not the thing that an English or 
an American husband wants : he wants it always \ 
indoors as well as out ; by night as well as by day ; 
on the floor as well as on the table; and, however 
he may grumble about the "fuss" and the "expense" 
of it, he would grumble more if he had it not. I 
once saw a picture representing the amusements of 
Portuguese Lovers; that is to say, three or four 
young men, dressed in gold or silver laced clothes, 
each having a young girl, dressed like a princess, 
and affectionately engaged in hunting down and 
killing the vermin in his head I This was, perhaps, 
an exaggeration; but that it should have had the 
shadow of foundation, was enough to fill me with 
contempt for the whole nation. 

112. The signs of cleanliness are, in the first place* 



100 cobbett's advice [Letter 

a clean skin. An English girl will hardly let her 
lover see the stale dirt between her fingers, as I have 
many times seen it between those of French women, 
and even ladies, of all ages. An English girl will 
have her face clean, to be sure, if there be soap and 
water within her reach ; but, get a glance, just a 
glance, at her poll, if you have any doubt upon the 
subject ; and, if you find there, or behind the ears y 
what the Yorkshire people call grime, the sooner 
you cease your visits the better. I hope, now, that 
no young women will be offended at this, and think 
me too severe on her sex. I am only saying, I am 
only telling the women, that which all men think ; 
and, it is a decided advantage to them to be fully in- 
formed of oiw thoughts on the subject. If any one, 
who shall read this, find, upon self-examination, that 
she is defective in this respect, there is plenty of 
time for correcting the defect. 

113. In the dress you can, amongst rich people, 
find little whereon to form a judgment as to cleanli- 
ness, because they have not only the dress prepared 
for them, but put upon them into the bargain. But, 
in the middle rank of life, the dress is a good crite- 
rion in two respects: first, as to its colour; for, if 
the white be a sort of yellow, cleanly hands would 
have been at work to prevent that. A white-yellow 
cravat, or shirt, on a man, speaks, at once, the cha 
racter of his wife; and, be you assured, that she wil 
not take with your dress pains which she has nevei 
taken with her own. Then, the manner of putting 
on the dress is no bad foundation for judging. If it 
be careless, slovenly, if it do not fit properly. Nc 
matter for its mean quality : mean as it may be, it 
may be neatly and trimly put on ; and, if it be not, 
take care of yourself ; for, as you will soon find to 
your cost, a sloven in one thing is a sloven in all 
things. The country-people judge greatly from the 
state of the covering of the ancles and, if that be 
not clean and tight, they conclude, that all out of 
sight is not what it ought to be. Look at the shoes! 
If they be trodden on one side, loose on the foot, or 



III.] TO A LOVER. 101 

run down at the heel, it is a very bad sign ; and, as 
to slip-shod) though at coming down in the morning 
and even before daylight, make up your mind to a 
rope, rather than to live with a slip-shod wife. 

114. Oh ! how much do women lose by inatten- 
tion to these matters ! Men, in general, say nothing 
about it to their wives ; but they think about it : they 
envy their luckier neighbours: and in numerous 
cases, consequences the most serious arise from this 
apparently trifling cause. Beauty is valuable ; it is 
one of the ties, and a strong tie too ; that, however, 
cannot last to old age; but the charm of cleanliness 
never ends but with life itself. I dismiss this part 
of my subject with a quotation from my " Year's 
Residence in America," containing words which I 
venture to recommend to every young woman to 
engrave on her heart ; " The sweetest flowers, when 
they become putrid, stink the most ; and a nasty 
woman is the nastiest thing in nature." 

115. Knowledge of domestic Affairs. Without 
more or less of this knowledge, a lady, even the 
wife of a peer, is but a poorish thing. It was the 
fashion, in former times, for ladies to understand a 
great deal about these affairs, and it would be very 
hard to make me believe that this did not tend to 
promote the interests and honour of their husbands. 
The affairs of a great family never can be well ma- 
naged, if left wholly to hirelings ; and there are ma- 
ny parts of these affairs in which it would be un- 
seemly for their husbands to meddle. Surely, no 
lady can be too high in rank to make it proper for 
her to be well acquainted with the characters and 
general demeanour of all the female servants. To 
receive and give them characters is too much to be 
left to a servant, however good, and of service how- 
ever long. Much of the ease and happiness of the 
great and rich must depend on the character of those 
by whom they are served : they live under the same 
roof with them ; they are frequently the children of 
their tenants, or poorer neighbours ; the conduct of 
their whole lives must be influenced by the examples 

9* 



102 cobbett's advice [Letter 

and precepts which they here imbibe; and when 
ladies consider how much more weight there must 
be in one word from them than in ten thousand 
words from a person who, call her what you like, is 
still a Jellow-servant it does appear strange that they 
should forego the performance of this at once im- 
portant and pleasing part of their duty. It was from 
the mansions of noolemen and gentlemen, and not 
from boarding schools, that farmers and tradesmen 
formerly took their wives ; and though these days 
are gone, with little chance of returning, there is 
still something left for ladies to do in checking that 
torrent of immorality which is now crowding the 
streets with prostitutes and cramming the jails with 
thieves. 

116. I am, however, addressing myself, in this 
work, to persons in the middle rank of life ; and 
here a knowledge of domestic affairs is so necessary 
in every wife, that the lover ought to have it con- 
tinually in his eye. Not only a knowledge of these 
affairs ; not only to know how things ought be done, 
but how to do them ; not only to know what ingre- 
dients ought to be put into a pie or a pudding, but 
to be able to make the pie or the pudding. Young 
people, when they come together, ought not, unless 
they have fortunes, or are in a great way of busi- 
ness, to think about servants ! Servants for what ! 
To help them to eat and drink and sleep ? When 
children come, there must be some help in a farmer's 
or tradesman's house, but until then, what call for a 
servant in a house, the master of which has to earn 
every mouthful that is consumed? 

117. I shall, when 1 come to address myself to the 
husband, have much more to say upon this subject 
of keeping servants; but, what the lover, if he be 
not quite blind, has to look to, is, that his intended 
wife know how to do the work of a house, unless he 
have fortune sufficient to keep her like a lady. " Eat- 
ing and drinking," as I observe in Cottage Economy, 
came three times every day ; they must come ; and, 
however little we may, in the days of our health 



III.] TO A LOVER. 103 

and vigour, care about choice food and about cook- 
ery, we very soon get tired of heavy or burnt bread 
and of spoiled joints of meat : we bear them for a 
time, or for two, perhaps ; but, about the third time, 
we lament inwardly ; about the fifth time, it must 
be an extraordinary honey-moon that will keep us 
from complaining : if the like continue for a month 
or two, we begin to repent ; and then adieu to all our 
anticipated delights. We discover, when it is too 
late, that we have not got a help-mate, but a burden ; 
and, the fire of love being damped, the unfortunate- 
ly educated creature, whose parents are more to* 
blame than she is, is, unless she resolve to learn her 
duty, doomed to lead a life very nearly approaching 
to that of misery ; for, however considerate the hus- 
band, he never can esteem her as he would have 
done, had she been skilled and able in domestic af- 
fairs. 

1 18. The mere manual performance of domestic 
labours is not, indeed, absolutely necessary in the 
female head of the family of professional men, such 
as lawyers, doctors, and parsons ; but, even here, and 
also in the case of great merchants and of gentle- 
men living on their fortunes, surely the head of the 
household ought to be able to give directions as to the 
purchasing of meal, salting meat, making bread, 
making preserves of ail sorts, and ought to see the 
things done, or that they be done. She ought to 
take care that food be well cooked, drink properly 
prepared and kept 5 that there be always a sufficient 
supply; that there be good living without waste; 
and that in her department, nothing shall be seen in- 
consistent with the rank, station, and character of 
her husband, who, if he have a skilful and industri- 
ous wife, will, unless he be of a singularly foolish 
turn, gladly leave all these things to her absolute do- 
minion, controlled only by theextentofthewholeex- 
penditure, of which he must be the best, and, indeed, 
the sole, judge. 

119. But, in a farmer's or a tradesman's family* 
the manual performance is absolutely necessary 



104 cobbett's advice (Letter 

whether there be servants or not. No one knows 
how to teach another so well as one who has done, 
and can do, the thing himself. It was said of a fa- 
mous French commander, that, in attacking an ene- 
my, he did not say to his men "go on," but " come 
on ;" and, whoever have well observed the move- 
ments of servants, must know what a prodigious dif- 
ference there is in the effect of the words, go and 
come. A very good rule would be, to have nothing 
to eat, in a farmer's or tradesman's house, that the 
mistress did not know how to prepare and to eook ^ 
no pudding, tart, pie or cake, that she did know how 
to make. Never fear the toil to her : exercise is good 
for health ; and without health there is no beauty ; 
a sick beauty may excite pity ; but pity is a short- 
lived passion. Besides, what is the labour in such a 
case? And how many thousands of ladies^who loll 
away the day, would give half their fortunes for that 
sound sleep which the stirring house-wife seldom 
fails to enjoy. 

120. Yet, if a young farmer or tradesman marry 
a girl, who has been brought up to play music, to 
what is called draw, to sing, to waste paper, pen and 
ink, in writing long and half romantic letters, and 
to see shows, and plays, and read novels ; if a young 
man do marry such an unfortunate young creature, 
let him bear the consequences with temper ; let him 
be just ; and justice will teach him to treat her with 
great indulgence ; to endeavour to cause h^r to learn 
her business as a wife ; to be patient with her; to re- 
flect that he has taken her, being apprised of her in- 
ability ; to bear in mind, that he was, or seemed to 
be, pleased with her showy and useless acquirements; 
and that, when the gratification of his passion has 
been accomplished, he is unjust and cruel and un- 
manly, if he turn round upon her, and accuse her of 
a want of that knowledge, which he well knew that 
she did not possess. 

121. For my part, I do not know, nor can I forra 
an idea of, a more unfortunate being than a girl with 
a mere boarding-school education, and without a for- 



IJI.l TO A LOVER. 105 

tune to enable her to keep a servant, when married. 
Of what use are her accomplishments? Of what 
use her music, her drawing, and her romantic epis- 
tles ? If she be good in her nature, the nrst little 
faint cry of her first baby drives all the tunes and all 
the landscapes and all the Clarissa Harlowes out of 
her head for ever. I once saw a very striking in- 
stance of this sort It was a climb-over-the-wall 
match, and I gave the bride away, at St. Margaret's 
Church, Westminster, the pair being as handsome 
a pair as ever I saw in my life. Beauty, however, 
though in double quantity, would not pay the baker 
and butcher; and, after an absence of little better- 
than a year, I found the husband in prison for debt ; 
but I there found also his wife, with her baby 5 and 
she, who had never, before her marriage, known what 
it was to get water to wash her own hands, and 
whose talk was all about music, and the like, was 
now the cheerful sustainer of her husband, and the 
most affectionate of mothers. All the music and all 
the drawing, and all the plays and romances, were 
gone to the winds ! The husband and baby had 
fairly supplanted them ; and even this prison scene 
was a blessing, as it gave her, at this early stage, an 
opportunity of proving her devotion to her husband, 
who, though I have not seen him for about fifteen 
years, he being in a part of America which I could 
not reach when last there, has, I am sure, amply re- 
paid her for that devotion. They have now a nume- 
rous family (not less than twelve children, I believe,) 
and she is, I am told, a most excellent and able mis- 
tress of a respectable house. 

122. But, this is a rare instance : the husband, like 
his countrymen in general, was at once brave, hu- 
mane, gentle, and considerate, and the love was so 
sincere and ardent, on both sides, that it made losses 
and sufferings appear as nothing. When I, in a sort 
of half- whisper, asked Mrs. Dickens where her piano 
was, she smiled, and turned her face towards her ba- 
by, that was sitting on her knee ; as much as to say, 
** This little fellow has beaten the piano;" and, if 



106 cobbetts advice (Letter 

what 1 am now writing should ever have the honour 
to be read by her, let it be the bearer of a renewed 
expression of my admiration of her conduct, and of 
that regard for her kind and sensible husband, which 
time and distance have not in the least diminished, 
and which will be an inmate of my heart until it 
shall cease to beat. 

123. The like of this is, however, not to be expect- 
ed : no man ought to think thathe has even a chance 
of it: besides, the husband was, in this case, a man 
of learning and of great natural ability : he has not 
had to get his bread by farming os trade - y and in all 
probability, his wife has had the leisure to practise 
those acquirements which she possessed at the time 
of her marriage. But, can this be the case with the 
farmer or the tradesman's wife ? She has to help to 
earn a provision for her children; or, at the least, to 
help to earn a store for sickness or old age. She, 
therefore, ought to be qualified to begin, at once, to 
assist her husband in his earnings: the way in which 
she can most efficiently assist, is by taking care of 
his property ; by expending his money to the great- 
est advantage; by wasting nothing ; by making the ta- 
ble sufficiently abundant with the least expense. And 
how is she to do these things, unless she have been 
brought up to understand domestic affairs % How is 
she to do these things, if she have been taught to 
think these matters beneath her study ? How is any 
man to expect her to do these things, if she havebeen 
so bred up as to make her habitually look upon them 
as worthy the attention of none but low and ignorant 
women ? 

124. Ignorant, indeed! Ignorance consists in a 
want of knowledge of those things which your call- 
ing or state of life naturally supposes you to under- 
stand. A ploughman is not an ignorant wan be- 
cause he does not know how»to read: if he knows 
how to plough, he is not to be called an ignorant 
man ; but, a wife may be justly called an ignorant 
woman, if she does not know how to provide a din- 
ner for her husband. It is cold comfort for a nun- 



III.] TO A LOVER. 107 

gry man, to tell him how delightfully his wife plays 
and sings : lovers may live on very aerial diet ; but 
husbands stand in need of the solids ; and young 
women may take my word for it, that a constantly 
clean board, well cooked victuals, a house in order, 
and a cheerful fire, will do more in preserving a 
husband's heart, than all the "accomplishments?* 
taught in ail the " establishments" in the world. 

125. Good Temper. This is a very difficult thing 
to ascertain beforehand. Smiles are so cheap ; they 
are so easily put on for the occasion ; and, besides, 
the frowns are, according to the lover's whim, inter- 
preted into the contrary. By "good temper? I do 
not mean easy temper, a serenity which nothing dis- 
turbs, for that is a mark of laziness. Sulkiness, if 
you be not too blind to perceive it, is a temper to be 
avoided by all means. A sulky man is bad enough ; 
what, then, must be a sulky woman, and that wo- 
man a wife ; a constant inmate, a companion day 
and night ! Only think of the delight of sitting at 
the same table, and sleeping in the same bed,wr a 
week, and not exchange a word all the while ! Very 
bad to be scolding for such a length of time; but 
this is far better than the sulks. If you have your 
eyes, and look sharp, you will discover symptoms 
of this, if it unhappily exist. She will, at some time 
or other, show it towards some one or other of the 
family ; or, perhaps, towards yourself; and you may 
be quite sure that, in this respect, marriage will not 
mend her. Sulkiness arises from capricious displea- 
sure not founded in reason. The party takes offence 
unjustifiably; is unable to frame a complaint, and 
therefore expresses displeasure by silence. The 
remedy for sulkiness is, to suffer it to take its full 
swing ; but it is better not to have the disease in 
your house ; and to be married to it is little short of 
madness. 

126. Querulousness is a great fault. No man, and, 
especially, no woman, likes to hear eternal plaintive- 
ness. That she complain, and roundly complain, of 
your want of punctuality, of your coolness, of your 



108 cobbett's advice [Letter 

neglect, of your liking the company of others : these 
are all very well, more especialty as they are fre- 
quently but too just. But an everlasting complain- 
ing, without rhyme or reason, is a bad sign. It 
shows want of patience, and, indeed, want of sense. 
But, the contrary of this, a cold indifference, is still 
worse. " When will you come again ? You can 
never find time to come here. You like any com- 
pany better than mine." These, when groundless, 
are very teasing, and demonstrate a disposition too 
full of anxiousness ; but, from a girl who always re- 
ceives you with the same civil smile, lets you, at 
your own good pleasure, depart with the same ; and 
who, when you take her by the hand, holds her cold 
fingers as straight as sticks, I say (or should if I 
were young,) God, in his mercy, preserve me ! 

127. Pertinacity is a very bad thing in any body, 
and especially in a young woman ; and it is sure to 
increase in force with the age of the party. To have 
the last word is a poor triumph ; but with some 
pe#ple it is a species of disease of the mind. In a 
wife it must be extremely troublesome ; and, if yon 
find an ounce of it in the maid, it will become a 
pound in the wife. An eternal disputer is a most 
disagreeable companion ; and where young women 
thrust their say into conversations carried on by 
older persons, give their opinions in a positive man- 
ner, and court a contest of the tongue, those must 
be very bold men who will encounter them as wives. 

128. Still, of all the faults as to temper, your me- 
lancholy ladies have the worst, unless you have the 
same mental disease. Most wives are, at time, mise- 
ry-makers ; but these carry it on as a regular trade. 
They are always unhappy about something, either 
past, present, or to come. Both arms full of 
children is a pretty efficient remedy in most cases ; 
but, if the ingredients be wanting, a little want, a 
little real trouble, a little genuine affliction must, if 
you would effect a cure, be resorted to. But, this is 
very painful to a man of any feeling ; and, therefore, 



TIL] TO A LOVER. 109 

the best way is to avoid a connexion, which is to 
give you a life of wailing and sighs. 

129. Beauty. Though I have reserved this to the 
last of the things to be desired in a wife, I by no 
means think it the last in point of importance. The 
less favoured part of the sex say, that "beauty is 
but skin-deep ;" and this is very true ; but, it is very 
agreeable, though, for all that. Pictures are only 
paint-deep, or pencil-deep ; but we admire them, 
nevertheless. " Handsome is that handsome does," 
used to say to me an old man, who had marked me 
out for his not over handsome daughter. " Please 
your eye and plague your heart" is an adage that 
want of beauty invented, I dare say, more than a 
thousand years ago. These adages would say, if 
they had but the courage, that beauty is inconsistent 
with chastity, with sobriety of conduct, and with all 
the female virtues. The argument is, that beauty 
exposes the possessor to greater temptation than 
women not beautiful are exposed to ; and that, there- 
fore, their fall is more probable. Let us see a little 

how this matter stands. 

130. It is certainly true, that, pretty girls will have 
more, and more ardent, admirers than ugly ones ; 
but, as to the temptation when in their unmarried 
state, there are few so very ugly as to be exposed to 
no temptation at all ; and, which is the most likely 
to resist ; she who has a choice of lovers, or she who 
if she let the occasion slip may never have it again ? 
Which of the two is most likely to set a high value 
upon her reputation, she whom all beholders admire, 
or she who is admired, at best, by mere chance? 
And as to women in the married state, this argu- 
ment assumes, that, when they fall, it is from their 
own vicious disposition ; when the fact is, that, if 
you search the annals of conjugal infidelity, you 
will find, that, nine times out of ten, the fault is in 
the husband. It is his neglect, his flagrant disregard, 
his frosty indifference, his foul example; it is to 
these that, nine times cut of ten, he owes the infi- 
delity of his wife ; and, if I were to say ninety-nine 



110 cobbett's advice [Letter 

times out of a hundred, the facts, if verified, would, 
I am certain, bear me out. And whence this neg- 
lect, this disregard, this frosty indifference ; whence 
this foul example? Because it is easy, in so many 
cases, to find some women more beautiful than the 
wife. This is no justification for the husband to 
plead ; for he has, with his eyes open, made a so- 
lemn contract: if he have not beauty enough to 
please him, he should have sought it in some other 
woman : if, as is frequently the case, he have pre- 
ferred rank or money to beauty, he is an unprinci- 
pled man, if he do any thing to make her unhappy 
who has brought him the rank or the money. At 
any rate, as conjugal infidelity is, in so many cases; 
as it is generally caused by the want of affection and 
due attention in the husband, it follows, of course, 
that it must more frequently happen in the case of 
ugly than in that of handsome women. 

131. In point of dress, nothing need be said to 
convince any reasonable man, that beautiful women 
will be less expensive in this respect than women oj 
a contrary description. Experience teaches us, that 
ugly women are always the most studious about 
their dress ; and, if we had never observed upon the 
subject, reason would tell us, that it must be so. 
Few women are handsome without knowing it ; and 
if they know that their features naturally attract 
admiration, will they desire to draw it off, and to fix 
it on lace and silks and jewels? 

132. As to manners and temper there are certainly 
some handsome women who are conceited and arro- 
gant ; but, as they have all the best reasons in the 
world for being pleased with themselves, they afford 
you the best chance of general good humour; and 
this good humour is a very valuable commodity in 
the married state. Some that are called handsome, 
and that are such at the first glance, are dull, inani- 
mate things, that might as well have been made of wax, 
or of wood. But, the truth is, that this is not beauty, 
for this is not to be found only in the form of the 
features, but in the movements of them also. Be- 



III.] TO A LOVER. Ill 

sides, here nature is very impartial ; for she gives 
animation promiscuously to the handsome as well 
as to the ugly ; and the want of this in the former is 
surely as bearable as in the latter. 

133. But, the great use of female beauty, the great 
practical advantage of it is, that it naturally and un- 
avoidably tends to keep the husband in good humour 
with himself, to make him, to use the dealer's phrase, 
pleased with his bar-gain. When old age approach- 
es, and the parties have become endeared to each 
other by a long series of joint cares and interests, 
and when children have come and bound them to- 
gether by the strongest ties that nature has in store ; 
at this age the features and the person are of less 
consequence ; but, in the young days of matrimony, 
when the roving eye of the bachelor is scarcely be- 
come steady in the head of the husband, it is dan- 
gerous for him to see, every time he stirs out, a face 
more captivating than that of the person to whom he 
is bound for life. Beauty is, in some degree, a mat- 
ter of taste : what one man admires, another does 
not ; and it is fortunate for us that it is thus. But 
still there are certain things that all men admire j 
and a husband is always pleased when he perceives 
that a portion, at least, of these things are in his own 
possession : he takes this possession as a compliment 
to himself: there must, he will think the world will 
believe, have been some merit in him, some charm, 
seen or unseen, to have caused him to be blessed 
with the acquisition. 

134. And then there arise so many things, sickness, 
misfortune in business, losses, many, many things, 
wholly unexpected ; and, there are so many circum- 
stances, perfectly nameless, to communicate to the 
new-married man the fact, that is not a real angel of 
w f hom he has got the possession ; there are so many 
things of this sort, so many and such powerful 
dampers of the passions, and so many incentives to 
cool reflection ; that it requires something, and a 
good deal too, to keep the husband in countenance 
in this his altered and enlightened state. The pas- 



212 cobbett's advice [Letter 

sion of women does not cool so soon ; the lamp 
of their love burns more steadily, and even bright- 
ens as it burns : and, there is, the young man may be 
assured, a vast difference in the effect of the fond- 
ness of a pretty woman and that of one of a differ- 
ent description ; and, let reason and philosophy say 
what they will, a man will come down stairs of a 
morning better pleased after seeing the former, than 
he would after seeing the latter, in her night-cap. 

135. To be sure, when a man has, from whatever 
inducement, once married a woman, he is unjust and 
cruel if he even slight her on account of her want of 
beauty, and, if he treat her harshly, on this account, 
he is a brute. But, it requires a greater degree of 
reflection and consideration than falls to the lot of 
men in general to make them act with justice in 
such a case ; and, therefore, the best way is to guard, 
if you can, against the temptation to commit such 
injustice, which is to be done in no other way, than 
by not marrying any one that you do not think hand- 
same. 

136. I must not conclude this address to the Lo- 
ver without something on the subject of seduction 
and inconstancy. In, perhaps, nineteen cases out of 
twenty, there is, in the unfortunate cases of illicit 
gratification, no seduction at all, the passion, the 
absence of virtue, and the crime, being all mutual. 
But, there are other cases of a very different descrip- 
tion ; and where a man goes coolly and deliberately 
to work, first to gain and rivet the affections of a 
young girl, then to take advantage of those affec- 
tions to accomplish that which he knows must be 
her ruin, and plunge her into misery for life ; when 
a man does this merely for the sake of a momentary 
gratification, he must be either a selfish and unfeel- 
ing brute, unworthy of the name of man, or he 
must have a heart little inferior, in point of obdura- 
cy, to that of the murderer. Let young women, 
however, be aware ; let them be well aware, that 
few, indeed, are the cases in which this apology can 
possibly avail them. Their character is not solely 



III.] TO A LOVER. 113 

theirs, but belongs, in part, to their family and kin- 
dred. They may, in the case contemplated, be ob- 
jects of compassion with the world; but what con- 
trition, what repentance, what remorse, what that 
even the tenderest benevolence can suggest, is to 
heal the wounded hearts of humbled, disgraced, but 
still affectionate, parents, brethren and sisters ? 

137. As to constancy in Lovers, though I do not 
approve of the saying, " At lovers' lies Jove laughs ;" 
yet, when people are young, one object may sup- 
plant another in their affections, not only without 
criminality in the party experiencing the change, 
but without blame ; and it is honest, and even hu- 
mane, to act upon the change ; because it would be 
both foolish and cruel to marry one girl while you 
liked another better : and the same holds good with 
regard to the other sex. Even when marriage 
has been promised, and that, too, in the most solemn 
manner, it is better for both parties to break off, 
than to be coupled together with the reluctant as- 
sent of either ; and I have always thought, that ac- 
tions for damages, on this score, if brought by the 
girl, show a want of delicacy as well as of spirit ; 
and, if brought by the man, excessive meanness. 
Some damage may, indeed, have been done to the 
complaining party ; but no damage equal to what 
that party would have sustained from a marriage, to 
which the other party would have yielded by a sort 
of compulsion, producing to almost a certainty what 
Hogarth, in his Marriage a la Mode, most aptly 
typifies by two curs, of different sexes, fastened to- 
gether by what sportsmen call couples, pulling differ- 
ent ways, and snarling and barking and foaming 
Hke furies. 

138. But when promises have been made to a 
young woman ; when they have been relied on 
for any considerable time ; when it is manifest that 
her peace and happiness, and,, perhaps, her life, de- 
pend upon their fulfilment ; when things have been 
carried to this length, the change in the Lover ought 
te be announced in the manner most likely to make 

JO* 



114 cobbett's advice [Letter 

the disappointment as supportable as the case will 
admit of: for, though it is better to break the pro- 
mise than to marry one while you like another 
better; though it is better for both parties, you 
have no right to break the heart of her who has, and 
that, too, with your accordance, and, indeed, at your 
instigation, or, at least, by your encouragement, con- 
fided to your fidelity. You cannot help your change 
of affections ; but you can help making the transfer 
in such a way as to cause the destruction, or even 
probable destruction, nay, if it were but the deep 
misery, of her, to gain whose heart you had pledged 
your own. You ought to proceed by slow degrees ; 
you ought to call time to your aid in executing the 
painful task ; you ought scrupulously to avoid every 
thing calculated to aggravate the sufferings of the 
disconsolate party. 

139. A striking, a monstrous, instance of conduct 
contrary of this has recently been placed upon the 
melancholy records of the Coroner of Middlesex 5 
which have informed an indignant public, that a 
young man, having first secured the affections of a 
virtuous young woman, next promised her marriage^ 
then caused the banns to be published, and then, on 
the very day appointed for the performance of the 
ceremony, married another woman, in the same 
church ; and this, too, without, as he avowed, any 
provocation, and without the smallest intimation or 
hint of his intention to the disappointed party, who, 
unable to support existence under a blow so cruel, 
put an end to that existence by the most deadly and 
the swiftest poison. If any thing could wipe from 
our country the stain of having given birth to a 
monster so barbarous as this, it would be the abhor- 
rence of him which the jury expressed ; and which, 
from every tongue, he ought to hear to the last mo- 
ment of his life. 

140. Nor has a man any right to sport with the 
affections of a young woman, though he stop short of 
positive promises. Vanity is generally the tempter 
in this case ; a desire to be regarded as being admi- 



III. I TO A LOVER. 115 

red by the women ; a very despicable species of 
vanity, but frequently greatly mischievous, notwith- 
standing. You do not, indeed, actually, in so many 
words, promise to marry ; but the general tenor of 
your language and deportment has that meaning ; 
you know that your meaning is so understood ; and 
if you have not such meaning ; if you be fixed by 
some previous engagement with, or greater liking 
for, another; if you know you are here sowing the 
seeds of disappointment ; and if you, keeping your 
previous engagement or greater liking a secret, per- 
severe, in spite of the admonitions of conscience, 
you are guilty of deliberate deception, injustice and 
cruelty : you make to God an ungrateful return foi 
those endowments which have enabled you to 
achieve this inglorious and unmanly triumph ; and 
if, as is frequently the case, you glory in such tri- 
umph, you may have person, riches, talents to ex- 
cite envy ; but every just and humane man will 
abhor your heart. 

141. There are, however, certain cases in which 
you deceive, or nearly deceive, yourself; cases in 
which you are, by degrees and by circumstances, 
deluded into something very nearly resembling sin- 
cere love for a second object, the first still, however, 
maintaining her ground in your heart ; cases in 
which you are not actuated by vanity, in which you 
are not guilty of injustice and cruelty ; but ca- 
ses in which you, nevertheless, do wrong j and as I 
once did a wrong of this sort myself, I will here give 
a history of it, as a warning to every young man 
who shall read this little book ; that being the best 
and, indeed, the only atonement, that I can make, or 
ever could have made, for this only serious sin that 
I ever committed against the female sex. 

142. The Province of New Brunswick, in North 
America, in which I passed my years from the age 
of eighteen to that of twenty-six, consists, in gene- 
ral, of heaps of rocks, in the interstices of which 
grow the pine, the spruce, and various sorts of 
fir trees, or, where the woods have been burnt 



116 cobbett's advice [Letter 

down, the bushes of the raspberry or those of the 
huckleberry. The province is cut asunder length- 
wise, by a great river, called the St. John, about two 
hundred miles in length, and, at halfway from the 
mouth full a mile wide. Into this main river run 
innumerable smaller rivers, there called cheeks. 
On the sides of these creeks the land is, in places, 
clear of rocks ; it is, in these places, generally good 
and productive; the trees that grow here are the 
birch, the maple, and others of the deciduous class; 
natural meadows here and there present themselves; 
and some of these spots far surpass in rural beauty 
any other that my eyes ever beheld ; the creeks, 
abounding towards their sources, in water-falls of 
endless variety, as well in form as in magnitude, and 
always teeming with fish, while water-fowl enliven 
their surface, and while wild-pigeons, of the gayest 
plumage, flutter, in thousands upon thousands, 
amongst the branches of the beautiful trees, which, 
sometimes, for miles together, form an arch over 
the creeks. 

143. I, in one of my rambles in the woods, in 
which I took great delight, came to a spot at a very 
short distance from the source of one of these creeks. 
Here was every thing to delight the eye, and espe- 
cially of one like me, who seem to have been born 
to love rural life, and trees and plants of all sorts. 
Here were about two hundred acres of natural 
meadow, interspersed with patches of maple-trees 
in various forms and of various extent ; the creek 
(there about thirty miles from its point of joining 
the St. John) ran down the middle of the spot, which 
formed a sort of dish, the high and rocky hills rising 
all around it, except at the outlet of the creek, and 
these hills crowned with lofty pines : in the hills 
were the sources of the creek, the waters of which 
came down in cascades, for any one of which many a 
nobleman in England would, if he could transfer it, 
give a good slice of his fertile estate ; and in the 
creek, at the foot of the cascades, there were, in the 



III. J TO A LOVER. 117 

season, salmon the finest in the world, and so abun- 
dant, and so easily taken, as to be used for manuring 
the land. 

144. If nature, in her very best humour, had 
made a spot for the express purpose of captivating 
me, she could not have exceeded the efforts which 
she had here made. But I found something here 
besides these rude works of nature ; I found some- 
thing in the fashioning of which man had had 
something to do. I found a large and well-built log 
dwelling house, standing (in the month of Septem- 
ber) on the edge of a very good field of Indian 
Corn, by the side of which there was a piece of 
buck- wheat just then mowed. I found a homestead, 
and some very pretty cows. I found all the things 
by which an easy and happy farmer is surrounded: 
and I found still something besides all these ; some- 
thing that was destined to give me a great deal of 
pleasure and also a great deal of pain, both in their 
extreme degree ; and both of which, in spite of the 
lapse of forty years, now make an attempt to rush 
back into my heart. 

145. Partly from misinformation, and partly from 
miscalculation, I had lost my way ; and, quite alone, 
but armed with my sword and a braee of pistols, to 
defend myself against the bears, I arrived at the log- 
house in the middle of a moonlight night, the hoar 
frost covering the trees and the grass. A stout and 
clamorous dog, kept off by the gleaming of my 
sword, waked the master of the house, who got up, 
received me with ^reat hospitality, got me some- 
thing to eat, and put me into a feather-bed, a thing 
that I had been a stranger to for some years. I, be- 
ing very tired, had tried to pass the night in the 
woods, between the trunks of two large trees, which 
had fallen side by side, and within a yard of each 
other. I had made a nest for myself of dry fern, 
and had made a covering by laying boughs of spruce 
across the trunk of the trees. But unable to sleep 
on account of the cold ; becoming sick from the 
great quantity of water that I had drank during the 



118 cobbett's advice [Letter 

heat of the day, and being, moreover, alarmed at the 
noise of the bears, and lest one of them should find 
me in a defenceless state, I had roused myself up, 
and had crept along as well as I could. So that no 
hero of eastern romance ever experienced a more en- 
chanting change. 

146. 1 had got into the house of one of those 
Yankee Loyalists, who, at the close of the revolu- 
tionary war (which, until it had succeeded, was 
called a rebellion) had accepted of grants of land in 
the King's Province of New Brunswick ; and who, 
to the great honour of England, had been furnished 
with all the means of making new and comfortable 
settlements. I was suffered to sleep till breakfast 
time, when I found a table, the like of which I have 
since seen so many in the United States, loaded with 
good things. The master and the mistress of the 
house, aged about fifty, were like what an English 
farmer and his wife were half a century ago. There 
were two sons, tall and stout, who appeared to have 
come in from work, and the youngest of whom was 
about my age, then tweftty-three. But there was 
another member of the family, aged nineteen, who 
(dressed according to the neat and simple fashion 
of New England, whence she had come with her 
parents five or six years before) had her long light- 
brown hair twisted nicely up, and fastened on the 
top of her head, in which head were a pair of lively 
blue eyes, associated with features of which that 
softness and that sweetness, so characteristic of 
American girls, were the predominant expressions, 
the whole being set off by a complexion indicative of 
glowing health, and forming, figure, movements, 
and all taken together, an assemblage of beauties, 
far surpassing any that I had ever seen but once in 
my life. That once was, too, two years agone ; and, 
in such a case and at such an age, two years, two 
whole years, is a long, long while ! It was a space 
as long as the eleventh part of my then life ! Here 
was the present against the absent: here was the 
power of the eyes pitted against that of the memory : 



III. I TO A LOVER. 119 

here were all the senses up in arms to subdue the 
influence of the thoughts: here was vanity, here 
was passion, here was the spot of all spots in the 
world, and here were also the life, and the manners 
and the habits and the pursuits that I delighted in : 
here was every thing that imagination can conceive, 
united in a conspiracy against the poor little bru- 
nette in England ! What, then, did I fall in love at 
once with this bouquet of lilies and roses? Oh ! by 
no means. I was, however, so enchanted with the 
place ; I so much enjoyed its tranquillity, the shade 
of the maple trees, the business of the farm, the 
sports of the water and of the woods, that I stayed 
at it to the last possible minute, promising, at my 
departure, to come again as often as I possibly could ; 
a promise which I most punctually fulfilled. 

147. Winter is the great season for jaunting and 
dancing (called/; -olicking) in America. In this pro- 
vince the river and the creeks were the only roads 
from settlement to settlement. In summer we travelled 
in canoes; in winter in sleighs on the ice or snow. Du- 
ring more than two years 1 spent all the time I could 
with my Yankee friends : they were all fond of me : I 
talked to them about, country affairs, my evident de- 
light in which they took as a compliment to them- 
selves : the father and mother treated me as one of their 
children; the sons as a brother; and the daughter, 
who was as modest and as full of sensibility as she w T as 
beautiful, in a way to which a chap much less san- 
guine than I was would have given the tenderest in- 
terpretation ; which treatment I, especially in the 
last-mentioned case, most cordially repaid. 

148. It is when you meet in company with others 
of your own age that you are, in love matters, put, 
most frequently, to the test, and exposed to detec- 
tion. The next door neighbour might, in that coun- 
try, be ten miles off. We used to have a frolic, some- 
times at one house and sometimes at another. Here, 
where female eyes are very much on the alert, no 
secret can long be kept ; and very soon father, mo- 
ther, brothers and the whole neighbourhood looked 



120 cobbett's advice [Letter 

upon the thing as certain, not excepting herself, to 
whom I, however, had never once even talked of 
marriage, and had never even told her that I loved 
her. But I had a thousand times done these by im- 
plication^ taking into view the interpretation that she 
would naturally put upon my looks, appellations and 
acts ; and it was of this, that I had to accuse myself. 
Yet I was not a deceiver; for my affection for her 
was very great : I spent no really pleasant hours but 
with her: I was uneasy if she showed the slightest 
r.ej*ard for any other young man: I was unhappy if 
th»j smallest matter affected her health or spirits: I 
quitted her in dejection, and returned to her with 
eager delight : many a time, when I could get leave 
but for a day, I paddled in a canoe two whole suc- 
ceeding nights, in order to pass that day with her. 
If this was not love, it was first cousin to it ; for as 
to any criminal intention I no more thought of it, 
in her case, than if she had been my sister. Many 
times I put to myself the questions : " What am I 
at ? Is not this wrong ? Why do I go?" But still I 
went. 

149. Then, farther in my excuse, my prior en- 
gagement, though carefully left un alluded to by both 
parties, was, in that thin population, and owing to the 
singular circumstances of it, and to the great talk 
that there always was about me, perfectly well known 
to her and all her family. It was matter of so much 
notoriety and conversation in the Province, that 
General Carleton (brother of the late Lord Dor- 
chester), who was the Governor when I was there, 
when he, about fifteen years afterwards, did me the 
honour, on his return to England, to come and see 
me at my house in Duke Street, Westminster, asked, 
before he went away, to see my wife, of whom he 
had heard so much before her marriage. So that 
here was no deception on my part : but still I ought 
not to have suffered even the most distant hope to be 
entertained by a person so innocent, so amiable, for 
whom I had so much affection and to whose heart I 
had no right to give a single twinge. I ought, from 



III. I TO A LOVER. 121 

the very first, to have prevented the possibility of 
her ever feeling pain on my account. I was young, 
to be sure ; but I was old enough to know what was 
my duty in this case, and I ought, dismissing my 
own feelings, to have had the resolution to perform it. 

150. The last 'parting came ; and now came my 
just punishment ! The time was known to every bo- 
dy, and was irrevocably fixed ; for I had to move 
with a regiment, and the embarkation of a regiment 
is an epoch in a thinly settled province. To describe 
this parting would be too painful even at this distant 
day, and with this frost of age upon my head. The 
kind and virtuous father came forty miles to see me 
just as I was going on board in the river. His looks 
and words I have never forgotten. As the vessel de- 
scended, she passed the mouth of that creek which I 
had so often entered with delight ; and though Eng- 
land, and all that England contained, were before me, 
I lost sight of this creek with an aching heart. 

151. On what trifles turn the great events in the 
life of man ! If I had received a cool letter from my 
intended wife ; if I had only heard a rumour of any 
thing from which fickleness in her might have been 
inferred ; if I had found in her any, even the small- 
est, abatement of affection ; if she had but let go any 
one of the hundred strings by which she held my 
heart : if any of these, never would the world have 
heard of me. Young as I was ; able as I was as a soldier ; 
proud as I was of the admiration and commendations of 
which I was the object ; fond as I was, too, of the 
command, which, at so early an age, my rare con- 
duct and great natural talents had given me ; san- 
guine as was my mind, and brilliant as were my pros- 
pects : yet I had seen so much of the meannesses, 
the unjust partialities, the insolent pomposity, the 
disgusting dissipations of that way of life, that I was 
weary of it : I longed, exchanging my fine laced coat 
for the Yankee farmer's home-spun, to be where I 
should never behold the supple crouch of servility, 
and never hear the hectoring voice of authority, 
again j and, on the lonely banks of this branch- 

11 



122 cobbetts advice [Letter 

covered creek, which contained (she out of the ques- 
tion) every thing congenial to my taste and dear to 
my heart, I, unapplauded, unfeared, unenvied and 
uncalumniated, should have lived and died. 



LETTER IV. 

TO A HUSBAND. 



152. It is in this capacity that your conduct will 
have the greatest effect on your happiness; and a 
great deal will depend on the manner in which you 
begin. I am to suppose that you have made &good 
choice; but a good young woman may be made, by 
a weak, a harsh, a neglectful, an extravagant, or a pro- 
fligate husband, a really bad wife and mother. All in 
a wife, beyond her own natural disposition and edu- 
cation is, nine times out of ten, the work of her 
husband. 

153. The first thing of all, be the rank in life what 
it may, is to convince her of the necessity of modera- 
tion of expense; and to make her clearly see the jus- 
tice of beginning to act upon the presumption, that 
there are children coming, that they are to be pro- 
vided for, and that she is to assist in the making of 
that provision. Legally speaking, we have a right 
to do what we please with our own property, which, 
however, is not our own, unless it exceed our debts. 
And, morally speaking, we, at the moment of our 
marriage, contract a debt with the naturally to be ex- 
pected fruit of it ; and, therefore (reserving farther 
remarks upon this subject till I come to speak of the 
education of children), the scale of expense should, 
at the beginning, be as low as that of which a due 
attention to rank in life will admit. 

154. The great danger of all is, beginning with 



/ 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 123 

servants, or a servant. Where there are riches, or 
where tlie business is so great as to demand help in 
the carrying on of the affairs of a house, one or more 
female servants must be kept ; but, where the work 
of a house can be done by one pair of hands, why 
should there be two; especially as you cannot have 
the hands without having the mouth, and, which is 
frequently not less costly, inconvenient and inju- 
rious, the tongue? When children come, there must, 
at times, be some foreign aid ; but, until then, what 
need can the wife of a young tradesman, or even 
farmer (unless the family be great) have of a servant'? 
The wife is young, and why is she not to work as 
well as the husband ? What justice is there in want- 
ing you to keep two women instead of one? You 
have not married them both in form ; but, if they be 
inseparable, you have married them in substance; 
and if you are free from the crime of bigamy, you 
have the far most burthensome part of its conse- 
quences. 

155. I am well aware of the unpopularity of this 
doctrine ; well aware of its hostility to prevalent 
habits; well aware that almost every tradesman and 
every larmer, though with scarcely a shilling to call 
his own ; and that every clerk, and every such per- 
son, begins by keeping a servant, and that the latter 
is generally provided before the wife be installed; I 
am well aware of all this; but knowing, from long 
and attentive observation, that it is the great bane of 
the marriage life ; the great cause of that penury, 
and of those numerous and tormenting embarrass- 
ments, amidst which conjugal felicity can seldom 
long be kept alive, 1 give the advice, and state the 
reasons on which it was founded. 

158. In London, or near it, a maid servant cannot 
be kept at an expense so low as that of thirty pounds 
a year ; for, besides her wages, board and lodging^ 
there must be a fire solely for her ; or she must sit 
with the husband and wife, hear every word that 
passes between them, and between them and their 
friends ; which will of course, greatly add to the 



124 cobbett's advice [Letter 

pleasures of their fireside ! To keep her tongue still 
would be impossible, and, indeed, unreasonable ; and 
if, as may frequently happen, she be prettier than 
the wife, she will know how to give the suitable in- 
terpretation to the looks which, to a next to a cer- 
tainty, she will occasionally get from him, who, as 
it were in mockery, she calls by the name of " mas- 
ter." This is almost downright bigamy ; but this 
can never do ; and, therefore, she must have a fire 
to herself. Besides the blaze of coals, however, there 
is another sort of flame that she will inevitably co- 
vet. She will by no means be sparing of the coals; 
but, well fed and well lodged, as she will be, what- 
ever you may be, she will naturally sigh for the fire 
of love, for which she carries in her bosom a match 
always ready prepared. In plain language, you have 
a man to keep, a part, at least, of every week ; and 
the leg of lamb, which might have lasted you and 
your wife for three days, will, by this gentleman's 
sighs, be borne away in one. Shut the door against 
this intruder ; out she goes herself: and, if she go 
empty-handed, she is no true Christian, or, at least, 
will not be looked upon as such by the charitable 
friend at whose house she meets the longing sou), 
dying partly with love and partly with hunger. 

157. The cost, altogether, is nearer fifty pounds a 
year than thirty. How many thousands of trades- 
men and clerks, and the like, who might have pass- 
ed through life without a single embarrassment, have 
lived in continual trouble and fear, and found a pre- 
mature grave, from this very cause, and this cause 
alone ! When I, on my return from America, in 
1800, lived a short time in Saint James's Street, fol- 
lowing my habit of early rising, I used to see the 
servant maids, at almost every house, dispensing 
charity at the expense of their masters, long before 
they, good men, opened their eyes, who thus did 
deeds of benevolence, not only without boasting of 
them, but without knowing of them. Meat, bread, 
cheese, butter, coals, candles; all came with equal 
freedom from these liberal hands. I have observed 



IV. J TO A HUSBAND. 125 

the same, in my early walks and rides, in every part 
of this great place and its environs. Where there 
is one servant it is worse than where there are two or 
more ; for, happily for their employers, they do not 
always a? - So that the oppression is most heavy 
on thos-> who ire the least able to bear it : and par- 
ticularly on cle' ?s, and such like people, whose wives 
seem% think, that, because the husband's work is 
of a genteel description, they ought to live the life 
of ladies. Poor fellows ! their work is not hard and 
rough, to be sure; but, it is work, and work for many 
hours too, and painful enough ; and as to their in- 
come, it scarcely exceeds, on an average, the double, 
at any rate, of that of a journeyman carpenter, 
bricklayer, or tailor. 

158. Besides, the man and wife will live on chea- 
per diet and drink than a servant will live. Thou- 
sands, who would never have had beer in their house, 
have it for the servant, who will not live without it. 
However frugal your wife, her frugality is of little 
use, if she have one of these inmates to provide for. 
Many a hundred thousand times has it happened 
that the butcher and the butter-man have been ap- 
plied to solely because there was a servant to satisfy. 
You cannot, with this clog everlastingly attached to 
you, be frugal, if you would : you can save nothing 
against the days of expense, which are, however, 
pretty sure to come. And why should you bring 
into your house a trouble like this ; an absolute 
annoyance ; a something for your wife to watch, to 
be a constraint upon her, to thwart her in her best 
intentions, to make her uneasy, and to sour her 
temper? Why should you do this foolish thing? 
Merely to comply with corrupt fashion ; merely from 
false shame, and false and contemptible pride? If a 
young man were, on his marriage, to find any diffi- 
culty in setting this ruinous fashion at defiance, a 
very good way would be to count down to his wife, 
at the end of every week, the amount of the expense 
of a servant for that week, and request her to depo- 
sit it in her drawer. In a short time she would find 
11* 



126 cobbett's advice [Letter 

the sum so large, that she would be frightened at the 
thoughts of a servant ; and would never dream of 
one again, except in case of absolute necessity, and 
then for as short a time as possible. 

159. But the wife may not be able to do all the 
work to be done in the house. Not able ! A young 
woman not able to cook and wash, and mend and 
make, and clean the house and make the bed fbr one 
young man and herself, and that young man her 
husband too, who is quite willing (if he be worth a 
straw) to put up with cold dinner, or with a crust ; 
to get up and light her fire ; to do any thing that the 
mind can suggest to spare her labour, and to con- 
duce to her convenience ! Not able to do this ? Then, 
if she brought no fortune, and he had none, she 
ought not to have been able to marry : and, let me 
tell you, young man, a small fortune would not put 
a servant-keeping wife upon an equality with one 
who required no such inmate. 

160. If, indeed, the work of a house were harder 
than a young woman could perform without pain, 
or great fatigue ; if it had a tendency to impair her 
health or deface her beauty ; then you might hesitate: 
but, it is not too hard, and it tends to preserve healthy 
to keep the spirits buoyant, and, of course, to pre- 
serve beauty. You often hear girls, while scrubbing 
or washing, singing till they are out of breath ; but 
never while they are at what they call working at 
the needle. The American wives are most exempla- 
ry in this respect. They have none of that false 
pride, which prevents thousands in England from 
doing that which interest, reason, and even their own 
inclination would prompt them to do. They work, 
not from necessity ; not from compulsion of any 
sort ; for their husbands are the most indulgent in 
the whole world. In the towns they go to the mar- 
ket, and cheerfully carry home the result : in the 
country, they not only do the work in the house, 
but extend their labours to the garden, plant and 
weed and hoe, and gather and preserve the fruits and 
the herbs ; and this, too, in a climate far from being 



IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 127 

so favourable to labour as that of England ; and they 
are amply repaid for these by those gratifications 
which their excellent economy enables their hus- 
bands to bestow upon them, and which it is their 
universal habit to do with a liberal hand. 

161. iJut did I practise what I am here preaching? 
Aye, and to the full extent. Till I had a second child, 
no servant ever entered my house, though well able 
to keep one ; and never, in my whole life, did I live 
in a house so clean, in such trim order, and never 
have I eaten or drunk, or slept or dressed, in a man- 
ner so perfectly to my fancy, as I did then. I had a 
great deal of business to attend to, that took me a 
great part of the day from home ; but, whenever I 
could spare a minute from business, the child was in 
my arms ; I rendered the mother's labour as light as 
I could; any bit of food satisfied me; when watch- 
ing was necessary, we shared it between us ; and 
that famous Grammar for teaching French people 
English, which has been for thirty years, and still is, 
the great work of this kind, throughout all America, 
and in every nation in Europe, was written by me, 
in hours not employed in business, and, in great part, 
during my share of the night-watchings over a sick, 
and then only child, who, after lingering many 
months, died in my arms. 

162. This was the way that we went on : this was 
the way that we began the married life ; and surely, 
that which we did with pleasure no young couple, 
unendowed with fortune, ought to be ashamed to do. 
But she may be ill ; the time may be near at hand, 
or may have actually arrived, when she must en- 
counter that particular pain and danger of which 
you have been the happy cause I Oh ! that is quite 
another matter ! And if you now exceed in care, in 
watchings over her, in tender attention to all her 
wishes, in anxious efforts to quiet her fears ; if you 
exceed in pains and expense to procure her relief 
and secure her life; if you, in any of these, exceed 
that which I would recommend, you must be ro- 
Mintic indeed ! She deserves them all, and more than 



128 cobbett's advice [Letter 

all, ten thousand times told. And now it is that you 
feel the blessing conferred by her economy. That 
heap of money, which might have been squandered 
on, or by, or in consequence of, an useless servant, 
you now have in hand wherewith to procure an 
abundance of that skill and that attendance of which 
she stands in absolute need ; and she, when restored 
to you in smiling health, has the just pride to reflect, 
that she may have owed her life and your happiness 
to the effects of her industry. 

163. It is the beginning that is every thing in this 
important case ; and you will have, perhaps, much 
to do to convince her, not that what you recommend 
is advantageous; not that it is right ; but to convince 
her that she can do it without sinking below the sta- 
tion that she ought to maintain. She would cheer- 
fully do it; but there are her next-door neighbours, 
who do not do it, though, in all other respects, on a 
par with her. It is not laziness, but pernicious fashion, 
that you will have to combat. But the truth is, that 
there ought to be no combat at all ; this important 
matter ought to be settled and fully agreed on before- 
hand. If she really love you, and have common 
sense, she will not hesitate a moment; and if she be 
deficient in either of these respects ; and if you be so 
mad in love as to be unable to exist without her, it is 
better to cease to exist at once, than to become the 
toiling and embarrassed slave of a wasting and pil- 
laging servant. 

164. The next thing to be attended to is, your de- 
meanor towards a young wife. As to oldish ones, 
or widows, time and other things have, in most cases, 
blunted their feelings, and rendered harsh or stern de- 
meanor in the husband a matter not of heart-break- 
ing consequence. But with a young and inex- 
perienced one, the case is very different ; and you 
should bear in mind, that the first frown that she re- 
ceives from you is a dagger to her heart. Nature has 
so ordered it, that men shall become less ardent, in 
their passion after the wedding day ; and that women 
shall not. Their ardour increases rather than the 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 129 

contrary ; and they are surprisingly quick-sighted 
and inquisitive on this score. When the child comes, 
it divides this ardour with the father ; but until then 
you have it ail ; and if you have a mind to be happy, 
repay it with all your soul. Let what may happen 
to put you out of humour with others, let nothing 
put you out of humour with her. Let your words 
and looks and manners be just what they were be- 
fore you called her wife. 

165. But now, and throughout your life, show 
3-our affection for her, and your admiration of her, 
not in nonsensical compliment; not in picking up 
her handkerchief, or her g;ove, or in carrying her 
fan or parasol ; not, if you have the means, in hang- 
ing trinkets and baubles upon tier ; not in making 
yourself a fool by winking at, and seeming pleased 
at, her foibles, or follies, or faults ; but show them 
by acts of real goodness towards her ; prove by un- 
equivocal deeds the high value that you set on her 
health and life and peace of mind ; let your praise 
of her go to the full extent of her deserts, but let it 
be consistent with truth and with sense, and such as 
to convince her of your sincerity. He who is the 
flatterer of his wife only prepares her ears for the 
hyperbolical stuff of others. The kindest appella- 
tion that her Christian name affords is the best you 
can use, especially before faces. An everlasting 
11 my dear" is but a sorry compensation for a want 
of that sort of love that, makes the husband cheer- 
fully toil by day, break his rest by night, endure all 
sorts of hardships, if the life or health of his wife de- 
mand it. Let your deeds, and not your words, carry 
to her heart a daily and hourly confirmation of the 
fact, that you value her health and life and happiness 
beyond all other filings in the world ; and let this be 
manifest to her, particularly at those times when life 
is always more or less in danger. 

166. I began my young marriage days in and near 
Philadelphia. At one of those times to which I 
have just alluded, in the middle of the burning hot 
month of July, I was greatly afraid of fatal conse- 



130 cobbett's advice [Letter 

quences to my wife for want of sleep, she not having, 
after the great clanger was over, had any sleep for 
more than forty-eigtit hours. All great cities, in hot 
countries, are, I believe, full of dogs ; and they, in 
the very hot weather, keep up, during the night, a 
horrible barking and fighting and howling. Upon 
the particular occasion to which I am adverting, they 
made a noise so terrible and so unremitted, that it 
was next to impossible that even a person in full 
health and free from pain should obtain a ininute'3 
sleep. I was, about nine in the evening, sitting by 
the bed : " 1 do think," said she, " that 1 could go to 
sleep wow, if it were not for ike dogs" Down stairs 
I went, and out I sallied, in my shirt and trowsers, 
and without shoes and stockings ; and, going to a 
heap of stones lying beside the road, set to work 
upon the dogs, going backward and forward, and 
keeping them at two or three hundred yards' dis- 
tance from the house. I walked thus the whole night, 
barefooted, lest the noise of my shoes might possibly 
reach her ears ; and I remember that the bricks of 
the causeway were, even in the night, so hot as to 
be disagreeable to my feet. My exertions produced 
the desired effect: a sleep of several hours was the 
consequence ; and, at eight o'clock in the morning, 
off went I to a day's business, which was to end at 
six in the evening. 

167. Women are all patriots of the soil ; and when 
her neighbours used to ask my wife whether all Eng- 
lish husbands were like hers, she boldly answered in 
the affirmative. 1 had business to occupy the whole 
of my time, Sundays and week-days, except sleep- 
ing hours; but I used to make time to assist her in 
the taking care of her baby, and in all sorts of things: 
get up, light her fire, boil her tea-kettle, carry herup 
warm water in cold weather, take the child while 
she dressed herself and got the breakfast ready, then 
breakfast, get her in water and wood for the day, 
then dress myself neatly, and sally forth to my busi- 
ness. The moment that was over I used to hasten 
back to her again ; and I no more thought of spend- 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 131 

ing a moment away from her, unless business com- 
pelled me, than 1 thought of quitting the country 
and going to sea. The thunder and Lightning are 
tremendous in America, compared with what they 
are in England. My wife was, at one time, very 
much afraid of thunder and lightning ; and as is the 
feeiing of all such women, and, indeed, all men too, 
she wanted company, and particularly her husband, 
in those times of danger. 1 knew well, of course, 
that my presence would not diminish the danger 3 
but, be I at what I might, if within reach of home, 
I used to quit my business and hasten to her, the 
moment I perceived a thunder storm approaching. 
Scores of miles have I, first and last, run on this 
errand, in the streets of Philadelphia ! The French- 
men, who were my scholars, used to laugh at me ex- 
ceedingly on this account; and sometimes, when I 
was making an appointment with them, they would 
say, with a smile and a bow, " Sauve. la tonnere tovr 
jours. Monsieur Cobbett." 

168. I never dangled about at the heels of my wife; 
seldom, very seldom, ever walked out as it is called, 
w r ith her ; I never "went a walking" in the whole 
course of my life; never went to walk without hav- 
ing some object in view other than the walk ; and, as 
I never could walk at a slow pace, it would have 
been hard work for her to keep up with me ; so that, 
in the nearly forty years of our married life, we have 
not walked out together, perhaps, twenty times. I 
hate a dangler, who is more like a footman than a 
husband. It is very cheap to be kind in trifles ; but 
that which rivets the affections is not to be purchas- 
ed with money. The great thing of all, however, is 
to prove your anxiety at those times of peril to her, 
and for which times you, nevertheless, wish. Upon 
those occasions I was never from home, be the ne- 
cessity for it ever so great : it was my rule, that eve- 
ry thing must give way to that. In the year 1809, 
some English local militiamen were flogged, in the 
Isle of Ely, in England, under a guard of Hanove- 
rians, then stationed in England. I, reading an ac- 



132 cobbett's advice [letter 

count of this in a London newspaper, called the 
Courier, expressed my indignation at it in such 
terms as it became an Englishman to do. The At- 
torney General, Gibbs, was set on upon me ; he ha- 
rassed me for nearly a year, then brought me to 
trial, and I was, by Ellenborough, Grose, Le Blanc, 
and Bailey, sentenced to two years' imprisonment in 
Newgate, to pay a fine to the king' of a thousand 
pounds, and to be held in heavy bail for seven years 
after the expiration of the imprisonment ! Every 
one regarded it as a sentence of death. I lived in 
the country at the time, seventy miles from London ; 
I had a farm on my hands : I had a family of small 
children, amongst whom I had constantly lived ; 1 
had a most anxious and devoted wife, who was, too, 
in that state, which rendered the separation more 
painful ten-fold. I was put into a place amongst/e- 
lons, from which I had to rescue myself at the price 
of twelve guineas a week for the whole of the two 
years. The kins;, poor man ! was, at the close of 
my imprisonment, not in a condition to receive the 
thousand, pounds ; but his son, the present king, 
punctually received it " in his name and behalf;" 
and he keeps it still. 

169. The sentence, though it proved not to be one 
of death, was, in effect, one of ruin, as far as then- 
possessed property went. But this really appeared 
as nothing, compared with the circumstance, that I 
must now have a child boi^n in a felons' jail, or be 
absent from the scene at the time of the birth. My 
wife, who had come to see me for the last time pre- 
vious to her lying-in, perceiving my deep dejection 
at the approach of her departure for Botley, resolv- 
ed not to go ; and actually went and took a lodging 
as near to Newgate as she could find one, in order 
that the communication between us might be as 
speedy as possible ; and in order that I might see 
the doctor, and receive assurances from him relative 
to her state. The nearest lodging that she could find 
was in Skinner-street, at the corner of a street lead- 
ing to Smithfield. So that there she was, amidst the 



I V.J TO A HUSBAND. 133 

incessant rattle of coaches and butchers' carts, and 
the noise of cattle, dogs, and bawling men ; instead 
of being in a quiet and commodious country-house, 
with neighbours and servants and every thing ne- 
cessary about her. Yet, so great is the power of the 
mind in such cases, she, though the circumstances 
proved uncommonly perilous, and were attended 
with the loss of the child, bore her sufferings with 
the greatest composure, because, at any minute she 
could send a message to, and hear from, me. If she 
had gone to Botley, leaving me in that state of anxi- 
ety in which she saw me, I am satisfied that she 
would have died ; and that event taking place at such 
a distance from me, how T was I to contemplate her 
corpse, surrounded by her distracted children, and to 
have escaped death, or madness, myself? If such 
was not the effect of this merciless act of the go- 
vernment towards me, that amiable body may" be 
well assured that I have taken and recorded the will 
for the deed, and that as such it will live in my me- 
mory as long as that memory shall last. 

170. I make no apology for this account of my 
own conduct, because example is better than pre- 
cept, and because I believe that my example may 
have weight with many thousands, as it has had in 
respect to early rising, abstinence, sobriety, industry, 
and mercy towards the poor. It is not, then, dang- 
ling about after a wife ; it is not the loading her with 
baubles and trinkets ; it is not the jaunting of her 
about from show to show, and from what is called 
pleasure to pleasure. It is none of these that en- 
dears you to her : it is the adherence to that part of 
the promise you have made her : " With my body I 
thee worship ;" that is to say, respect and honour by 
personal attention and acts of affection. And re- 
member, that the greatest possible proof that you 
can give of Teal and solid affection is to give her 
your time, when not wanted in matters of business ; 
When not wanted for the discharge of some duty, 
^either towards the public or towards private persons. 
Amongst duties of this sort, we must, of course, in 
22 



134 cobbett's advice [Letter 

some ranks and circumstances of life, include the 
intercourse amongst friends and neighbours, which 
may frequently and reasonably call the husband 
from his home : but what are we to think of the 
husband who is in the habit of leaving his own fire- 
side, after the business of the day is over, and seek- 
ing promiscuous companions in the ale or the coffee 
house ? I am told that, in France, it is rare to meet 
with a husband who does not spend every evening 
of his life in what is called a caffe ; that is to say, a 
place for no other purpose than that of gossipping, 
drinking and gaming. And it is with great sorrow 
that I acknowledge that many English husbands in- 
dulge too much in a similar habit. Drinking clubs, 
smoking clubs, singing clubs, clubs of odd-fellows, 
whist clubs, sotting clubs : these are inexcusable, 
they are censurable, they are at once foolish and 
wicked, even in single men ; what must they be, 
then, in husbands ; and how are they to answer, not 
only to their wives, but to their children, for this 
profligate abandonment of their homes; this breach 
of their solemn vow made to the former, this evil 
example to the latter 1 

171. Innumerable are the miseries that spring 
from this cause. The expense is, in the first place, 
very considerable. I much question whether, 
amongst tradesmen, a shilling a night pays the ave- 
rage score ; and that, too, for that which is really 
worth nothing at all, and cannot, even by possibility, 
be attended with any one single advantage, however 
small. Fifteen pounds a year thus thrown away, 
would amount, in the course of a tradesman's life, 
to a decent fortune for a child. Then there is the 
injury to health from these night adventures ; there 
are the quarrels ; there is the vicious habit of loose 
and filthy talk ; there are the slanders and the baek- 
bitings ; there are the admiration of contemptible 
wit, and there the scoffings at all that is sober and 
serious. 

172. And does the husband who thus abandons 
Ms wife and children imagine that she will not, in 



I V.J TO A HUSBAND. 135 

some degree at least, follow his example ? If he do, 
he is very much deceived. If she imitate him even 
in drinking, he has no great reason to complain ; and 
then the cost may be two shillings the night instead 
of one, equal in amount to the cost of all the bread 
wanted in the family, while the baker's bill is, per- 
haps, unpaid. Here are the slanderings, too, going 
on at home; for, while the husbands are assembled, 
it would be hard if the wives were not to do the 
same ; and the very least that is to be expected is, 
that, the tea-pot should keep pace with the porter-pot 
or grog-glass. Hence crowds of female acquaintan- 
ces and intruders, and all the consequent and inevi- 
table squabbles which form no small part of the 
torment of the life of man. 

173. If you have servants, they know to a mo- 
ment the time of your absence ; and they regulate 
their proceedings accordingly. " Like master like 
man,' 3 is an old and true proverb ; and it is natural, 
if not just, that it should be thus; for it would be 
unjust if the careless and neglectful sot were served as 
faithfully as the vigilant, attentive and sober man. 
Late hours, cards and dice, are amongst the conse- 
quences of the master's absence ; and why not, see- 
ing that he is setting the example? Fire, candle, 
profligate visitants, expences, losses, children ruined 
in habits and morals, and, in short, a train of evils 
hardly to be enumerated, arise from this most vi- 
cious habit of the master spending his leisure time 
from home. But beyond all the rest is the ill-treat- 
ment of the wife. When left to ourselves we al 
seek the company that we like best; the company 
in which we take the most delight: and therefore 
every husband, be his state of life what it may, who 
spends his leisure time, or who, at least, is in the 
habit of doing it, in company other than that of his 
wife and family, tells her and them, as plainly by 
deeds as he could possibly do by words, that he 
takes more delight in other company than in theirs. 
Children repay this with disregard for their father; 
but to a wife of any sensibility it is either a dagger 



136 cobbett's advice [Letter 

to her heart or an incitement to revenge, and revenge, 
too, of a species which a young woman will sel- 
dom be long in want of the means to gratify. In 
conclusion of these remarks respecting absentee hus- 
bands, I would recommend all those who are prone 
to, or likely to fall into, the practice, to remember 
the words of Mrs. Sullen, in the Beaux Stratagem : 
" My husband," says she, addressing a footman 
whom she had taken as a paramour, " comes reeling 
" home at midnight, tumbles in beside me as a sal- 
" moti flounces in a net, oversets the economy of my 
" bed, belches the fumes of his drink in my face, 
u then twists himself around, leaving me half naked, 
" and listening till morning to that tuneful nightin- 
" gale, his nose." It is at least forty-three years 
since I read the Beaux Stratagem, and I now quote 
from memory ; but the passage has always occurred 
to me whenever I have seen a sottish husband ; and 
though that species of revenge, for the taking of 
which the lady made this apology, was carrying 
the thing too far, yet I am ready to confess, 
that if I had to sit in judgment on her for ta- 
king even this revenge, my sentence would be 
very lenient ; for what right has such a husband 
to expect fidelity ! He has broken his vow ; and by 
what rule of right has she to be bound to hers ? She 
thought that she was marrying a man ; and she 
finds that she was married to a beast. He has, in- 
deed, committed no offence that the law of the land 
can reach ; but he has violated the vow by which he 
obtained possession of her person ; and, in the eye 
of justice, the compact between them is dissolved. 

174. The way to avoid the sad consequences of 
which I have been speaking is to begin well : many 
a man has become a sottish husband, and brought a 
family to ruin, without being sottishly inclined^ and 
without liking the gossip of the ale or coffee house. 
It is by slow degrees that the mischief is done. 
He is first inveigled, and, in time, he really likes 
the thing ; and, when arrived at that point, he is 
Hcnirable. Let him resolve, from the verv #*«&. 



1V.J TO A HUSBAND. 137 

never to spend an hour from home, unless business, 
or, at least, some necessary and rational purpose 
demand it. Where ought he to be, but with the 
person whom he himself hath chosen to be his part- 
ner for life, and the mother of his children ? What 
other company ought he to deem so good and so fit- 
ting as this 1 Witn whom else can he so pleasantly 
spend his hours of leisure and relaxation ? Be- 
sides, if he quit her to seek company more agreea- 
ble, is not she set at large by that act of his '? What 
justice is there in con lining her at home without 
any company at all, while he rambles forth in search 
of company more gay than he finds at home '? 

175. Let the young married man try the thing; 
let him resolve not to be seduced from his home ; let 
him never go, in one single instance, unnecessarily 
from his own fire-side. Habit is a powerful thing ; 
and if he begin right, the pleasure that he will de- 
rive from it will induce him to continue right. This 
is not being u tied to the apron-strings," which 
means quite another matter, as I shall show by-and- 
by. It is being at the husband's place, whether he 
have children or not. And is there any want of 
matter for conversation between a man and his wife ? 
Why not talk of the daily occurrences to her, as 
well as to any body else ; and especially to a com- 
pany of tippling and noisy men? If you excuse your- 
self by saying that you go to read the newspaper, I 
answer, buy the newspaper, if you must read it : the 
cost is not half of what you spend per day at the 
pot-house ; and then you have it your own, and may 
read it at your leisure, and your wife can read it as 
well as yourself, if read it you must. And, in short, 
what must that man be made of, who does not prefer 
sitting by his own fire-side with his wife and children, 
reading to them, or have them read, to hearing the gab- 
ble and balderdash of a club or a pot-house company ! 

176. Men must frequently be from home at all 
hours of the day and night. Sailors, soldiers, mer- 
chants, all men out of the common track of labour, 
and even some in the very lowest walks are some- 

12* 



138 cobbett's advice [Letter 

times compelled by their affairs, or by circumstances, 
to be from their homes. But what I protest against 
is, the habit of spending leisure hours from home, 
and near to it ; and doing this without any necessi- 
ty, and by choice; liking the next door, or any 
house in the same street, better than your own. 
When absent from necessity, there is no wound 
given to the heart of the wife ; she concludes that 
you would be with her if you could, and that satis- 
fies ; she laments the absence, but submits to it 
without complaining. Yet, in these cases, her 
feelings ought to be consulted as much as possible ; 
she ought to be fully apprised of the probable dura- 
tion of the absence, and of the time of return ; and 
if these be dependent on circumstances, those cir- 
cumstances ought to be fully stated ; for you have 
no right to keep her mind upon the rack, when you 
have it in your power to put it in a state of ease. 
Few men have been more frequently taken from 
home by business, or by a necessity of some sort, 
than I have ; and I can positively assert, that, as to 
my return, I never once disappointed my wife in the 
whole course of our married life. If the time of 
return was contingent, I never failed to keep her 
informed from day to day : if the time was fixed, 
or when it became fixed, my arrival was as sure as 
my life. Going from London to Botley, once, with 
Mr. Finnertv, whose name I can never pronounce 
without an expression of my regard for his memory, 
we stopped at Alton, to dine with a friend, who, de- 
lighted with Finnerty's talk, as every body else was, 
kept us till ten or eleven o'clock, and was proceed- 
ing to the other bottle, when I put in my protest, 
saying, " We must go, my wife will be frightened." 
" Blood, man," said Finnerty, " you do not mean to 
go home to night !" I told him I did ; and then 
sent my son, who was with us, to order out the post- 
chaise. We had twenty-three miles to go, during 
which we debated the question, whether Mrs. Cob- 
bett would be up to receive us, I contending for the 
affirmative, and he for the negative. She was up, 



IV. | TO A HUSBAND. 

and had a nice fire for us to sit down at. 
not committed the matter to a servant ; he 
and children were all in bed ; and she w 
perform the duty of receiving her husband and his 
friend. " You did not expect him ?" said Finnerty. 
" To be sure I did," said she ; " he never disappoint- 
ed me in his life." 

177. Now, if all young men knew how much 
value women set upon this species of fidelity, there 
would be fewer unhappy couples than there are. If 
men have appointments with lords, they never 
dream of breaking them ; and I can assure them 
that wives are as sensitive in this respect as lords. I 
had seen many instances of conjugal unhappiness 
arising out of that carelessness which left wives in a 
state of uncertainty as to the movements of their hus- 
bands ; and I took care, from the very outset, to 
guard against it. For no man has a right to sport 
with the feelings of any innocent person whatever, 
and particularly with those of one who has commit- 
ted her happiness to his hands. The truth is, that 
men in general look upon women as having no 
feelings different from their own ; and they know 
that they themselves would regard such disappoint- 
ments as nothing. But this is a great mistake ; wo- 
men feel more acutely than men ; their love is more 
ardent, more pure, more lasting, and they are more 
frank and sincere in the utterance of their feelings. 
They ought to be treated with due consideration had 
for all their amiable qualities and all their weakness- 
es, and nothing by which their minds are affected 
ought to be deemed a trifle. 

178. When we consider what a young woman 
gives up on her wedding day ; she makes a surren- 
der, an absolute surrender, of her liberty, for the 
joint lives of the parties ; she gives the husband the 
absolute right of causing her to live in what place, 
and in what manner and what society, he pleases ; 
she gives him the power to take from her, and to 
use, for his own purposes, all her goods, unless re- 
served by some legal instrument; and, "hove all, 



cobbett's advice [Letter 

snders to him her person. Then, when we 
the pains which they endure for us, and the 
ire of all the anxious parental cares that 
ian x,«j n.eir lot ; when we consider their devotion to 
us, and how unshaken their affection remains in our 
ailments, even though the most tedious and disgust- 
ing ; when we consider the offices that they per- 
form, and cheerfully perform, for us, when, were 
we left to one another, we should perish from neg- 
lect ; when we consider their devotion to their child- 
ren, how evidently they love them better, in nume- 
rous instances, than their own lives ; when we 
consider these things, how can a just man think 
any thing a trifle that affects their happiness ? I 
was once going, in my gig, up the hill, in the vil- 
lage of Frankford, near Philadelphia, when a little 
girl, about two years old, who had toddled away 
from a small house, was lying basking in the sun, in 
the middle of the road. About two hundred yards 
before I got to the child, the teams, five big horses 
in each, of three wagons, the drivers of which had 
stopped to drink at a tavern on the brow of the hill, 
started off, and came, nearly abreast, galloping down 
the road. I got my gig orf the road as speedily as I 
could ; but expected to see the poor child crushed to 
pieces. A young man, a journeyman carpenter, 
who was shingling a shed by the side of the road, 
seeing the child, and seeing the danger, though a 
stranger to the parents, jumped from the top of the 
shed, ran into the road, and snatched up the child, 
from scarcely an inch before the hoof of the leading 
horse. The horse's Jeg knocked him down ; but he, 
catching the child by its clothes, flung it back, out 
of the way of the other horses, and saved himself by 
rolling back with surprising agility. The mother 
of the child, who had apparently, been washing, 
seeing the teams coming, and seeing the situation 
of the child, rushed out, and catching up the child, 
just as the carpenter had flung it back, and hugging 
it in her arms, uttered a shriek such as I never heard 
before, never heard since, and, I hope, shall never 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 

hear again ; and then she dropped down 
fectly dead ! By the application of the u; 
she was restored, however, in a little wl 
being about to depart, asked the carpente 
a married man, and whether he were a relation of 
the parents of the child. He said he was neither : 
" Well, then," said I, " you merit the gratitude of 
" every father and mother in the world, and I will 
" show mine, by giving you what I have," pulling 
out the nine or ten dollars that I had in my pocket 
" No j I thank you, Sir," said he : " I have only 
done what it was my duty to do." 

179. Bravery, disinterestedness, and maternal af- 
fection surpassing these, it is impossible to imagine. 
The mother was going right in amongst the feet of 
these powerful and wild horses, and amongst the 
wheels of the wagons. She had no thought for her- 
self ; no feeling of fear for her own life ; her shriek 
was the sound of inexpressible joy ; joy too great 
for her to support herself under. Perhaps ninety- 
nine mothers out of every hundred would have acted 
the same part, under similar circumstances. There 
are, comparatively, very few women not replete 
with maternal love ; and, by-the-by, take you care, 
if you meet with a girl who " is not fond of child- 
ren? not to marry her by any means. Some few 
there are who even make a boast that they " cannot 
bear children," that is, cannot endure them. I never 
knew a man that was good for much who had a dis- 
like to little children ; and I never knew a woman 
of that taste who was good for any thing at all. I 
liave seen a few such in the course of my life, and I 
have never wished to see one of them a second time. 

180. Being fond of little children argues no effe- 
minacy in a man, but, as far as my observation has 
gone, the contrary. A regiment of soldiers pre- 
sents no bad school wherein to study character. 
Soldiers have leisure, too, to play with children, 
as well as with " women and dogs," for which the pro- 
verb has made them famed. And I have never obser- 
ved that effeminacy was at all the marked compan- 



[Letter 

ju s* mdness for little children. This fondness 
manifestly arises from a compassionate feeling to- 
wards creatures that are helpless, and that must be 
innocent. For my own part, how many days, how 
many months, all put together, have I spent with 
babies in my arms ! My time, when at home, and 
when babies were going on, was chiefly divided be- 
tween the pen and the baby. I have fed them and 
put them to sleep hundreds of times, though there 
were servants to whom the task might have been 
transferred. Yet, I have not been effeminate ; I 
have not been idle ; I have not been a waster of 
time ; but I should have been all these if I had dis- 
liked babies, and had liked the porter pot and the 
grog glass. 

181. It is an old saying, " Praise the child, and 
you make love to the mother ;" and it is surprising 
how far this will go. To a fond mother you can do 
nothing so pleasing as to praise the baby, and, the 
younger it is, the more she values the compliment. 
Say fine things to her, and take no notice of her ba- 
by, and she will despise you. I have often beheld 
this, in many women, with great admiration ; and 
it is a thing that no husband ought to overlook > for 
if the wife wish her child to be admired by others, 
what must be the ardour of her wishes with regard 
to kis admiration. There was a drunken dog of a 
Norfolk man in our regiment, who came from Thet- 
ford, I recollect, who used to say, that his wife would 
forgive him for spending all the pay, and the wash- 
ing money into the bargain, " if he would but kiss 
her ugly brat and say it was pretty." Now, thougti 
this was a very profligate fellow, he had philosophy 
in him ; and certain it is, that there is nothing wor- 
thy of the name of conjugal happiness, unless the 
husband clearly evince that he is fond of his 
children, and that, too, from their very birth. 

182. But though all the aforementioned conside- 
rations demand from us the kindest possible treat- 
ment of a wife, the husband is to expect dutiful de- 
portment at her hands. He is not to be her slave j 



IV."| TO A HUSBAND. *43 

he is not to yield to her against the dictates of his 
own reason and judgment ; it is her duty to obey all 
his lawful commands ; and, if she have sense, she 
will perceive that it is a disgrace to herself to acknow- 
ledge, as a husband, a thing over which she has an 
absolute controul. It should always be recollected 
that you are the party whose body must, if any do, 
iie in jail for debt, and for debts of her contracting, 
too, as well as of your own contracting. Over her 
tongue, too, you possess a clear right to exercise, if 
necessary, some controul ; for if she use it in an un- 
justifiable manner, it is against you and not against 
her, that the law enables, and justly enables, the 
slandered party to proceed ; which would be mon- 
strously unjust, if the law were not founded on the 
rigid which the husband has to controul, if necessa- 
ry, the tongue of the wife, to compel her to keep it 
within the limits prescribed by the law. A charm- 
ing, a most enchanting life, indeed, would be that 
of a husband, if he were bound to cohabit with and 
to maintain one for all the debts and all the slanders 
of whom he was answerable, and over whose con- 
duct he possessed no compulsory controul. 

183. Of the remedies in the case of really bad 
wives, squanderers, drunkards, adultresses, I shall 
speak further on ; it being the habit of us all to put off 
to the last possible moment the performance of dis- 
agreeable duties. But, far short of these vices there 
are several faults in a wife that may, if not cured in 
time, lead to great unhappiness, great injury to the 
interests as well as character of her husband and 
children ; and which faults it is, therefore, the hus- 
band's duty to correct. A wife may be chaste, sober 
in the full sense of the word, industrious, cleanly, 
frugal, and may be devoted to her husband and her 
children to a degree so enchanting as to make them 
all love her beyond the power of words to express. 
And yet she may, partly under the influence of her 
natural disposition, and partly encouraged by the 
great and constant homage paid to her virtues, and 
**resi: minov too> on the pain with which she knows 



344 cobbett's advice [Letter 

her will would be thwarted ; she may, with all her 
virtues, be thus led to a bold interference in the af- 
fairs of her husband ; may attempt to dictate to him 
in matters quite out of her own sphere ; and, in the 
pursuit of the gratification of her love of power and 
command, may wholly overlook the acts of folly or 
injustice which she would induce her husband to 
commit, and overlook, too, the contemptible thing 
that she is making the man whom it is her duty to 
honour and obey, and the abasement of whom can- 
not take place without some portion of degradation 
falling upon herself. At the time when " THE BOOK" 
came out, relative to the late ill-treated Queen Caro- 
line, I was talking upon the subject, one day, with 
a parson, who had not read the Book, but who, as 
was the fashion with all those who were looking up 
to the government, condemned the Queen unheard. 
"Now," said I, "be not so shamefully unjust; but 
"get the book, read it, and then give your judgment." 
— "Indeed," said his wife, who was sitting by, "but 
HE SHA' N'T," pronouncing the words sha> nH with 
an emphasis and a voice tremendously masculine, 
"Oh!" said I, "if he SHA'N'T, that is another mat- 
" ter ; but, if he sha' n't read, if he sha' n't hear the' 
" evidence, he sha' n't be looked upon, by me, as a 
"just judge; and I sha' n't regard him, in future, as 
"having any opinion of his own in any thing." All 
which the husband, the poor henpecked thing, heard 
without a word escaping his lips. 

184. A husband thus under command, is the most 
contemptible of God's creatures. Nobody can place 
reliance on him for any thing; whether in the ca- 
pacity of employer or employed, you are never sure 
of him. No bargain is firm, no engagement sacred, 
with such a man. Feeble as a reed before the bois- 
terous she-commander, he is bold in injustice to- 
wards those whom it pleases her caprice to mark 
out for vengeance. In the eyes of neighbours, for 
friends such a man cannot have, in the eyes of ser- 
vants, in the eyes of even the beggars at his door, 
such a man is a mean and despicable creature, though 



IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 145 

he may roll in wealth and possess great talents into 
the bargain. Such a man has, in fact, no property; 
he has nothing that he can rightly call his own ; he 
is a beggarly dependent under his own roof; and if 
he have any thing of the man left in him, and if there 
be rope or river near, the sooner he betakes him to 
the one or the other the better. How many men, 
how many families, have I known brought to utter 
ruin only by the husband suffering himself to be sub- 
dued, to be cowed down, to be held in fear, of even 
a virtuous wife ! What, then, must be the lot of him 
who submits to a commander who, at the same time, 
sets all virtue at defiance ! 

185. Women are a sisterhood. They make com- 
mon cause in behalf of the sex ; and, indeed, this is 
natural enough, when we consider the vast power 
that the law gives us over them. The law is for us, 
and they combine, wherever they can, to mitigate its 
effects. This is perfectly natural, and, to a certain 
extent, laudable, evincing fellow-feeling and public 
spirit: but when carried to the length of "heshaWf" 
it is despotism on the one side and slavery on the other. 
Watch, therefore, the incipient steps of encroach- 
ment; and they come on so slowly so softly, that you 
must be sharp-sighted if you perceive them : but the 
moment you do perceive them: your love will blind 
for too long a time ; but the moment you do perceive 
them, put at once an effectual stop to their progress. 
Never mind the pain that it may give you: a day of 
pain at this time will spare you years of pain in time 
to come. Many a man has been miserable, and made 
his wife miserable too, for a score or two of years, 
only for want of resolution to bear one day of pain: 
and it is a great deal to bear; it is a great deal to 
do to thwart the desire of one whom you so dearly 
love, and whose virtues daily render her more and 
more dear to you. But (and this is one of the most 
admirable of the mother's traits) as she herself will, 
while the tears stream from her eyes, force the nau- 
seous medicine down the throat of her child, whose 
every cry is a dagger to her heart j as she herself 
13 



146 cobbett's advice [Lette? 

has the courage to do this for the sake of her child, 
why should you flinch from the performance of a 
stili more important and more sacred duty towards 
herself, as well as towards you and your children? 

186. Am I recommending tyranny? Am I recom- 
mending disregard of the wife's opinions and wishes? • 
Am I recommending ^reserve towards her that would 
seem to say that she was not trust-worthy, or not a 
party interested in her husband's affairs ? By no 
means : on the contrary, though I would keep any 
thing disagreeable from her, I should not enjoy the 
prospect of good without making her a participator. • 
But reason says, and God has said, that it is the duty 
of waves to be obedient to their husbands; and the 
very nature of things prescribes that there must be 
a head of every house, and an undivided authority. 
And then it is so clearly just that the authority should 
rest with him on whose head rests the whole respon- 
sibility, that a woman, when patiently reasoned with 
on the subject, must be a virago in her very nature 
not to submit with docility to the terms of her mar- 
riage vow. 

187. There are, in almost every considerable neigh- 
bourhood, a little squadron of she-commanders, 
generally the youngish wives of old or weak-minded 
men, and generally without children. These are the 
tutoresses of the young wives of the vicinage ; they, 
in virtue of their experience, not only school the 
wives, but scold the husbands ; they teach the for- 
mer how to encroach and the latter how to yield : so 
that if you suffer this to go quietly on, you are soon 
under the care of a cowite as completely as if you 
were insane. You want no cowite : reason, law, re- 
ligion, the marriage vow ; all these have made you 
head, have given you full power to rule your family, 
and if you give up your right, you deserve the con- 
tempt that assuredly awaits you, and also the ruin 
that is, in all probability, your doom. 

188. Taking it for granted that you will not suf- 
fer more than a second or third session of the female 
comity let me say a word or tw r o about the conduct of 



IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 147 

men in deciding between the conflicting opinions of 
husbands and wives. When a wife has a point to car- 
ry, and finds herself hard pushed, or when she thinks 
it necessary to call to her aid all the force she can 
possibly muster; one of her resources is, the vote on 
her side of all her husband's visiting friends. " My 
"husband thinks so and so, and I think so and so; 
" now, Mr. Tomkins, dont you think 1 am right?" 
To be sure he does; and so does Mr. Jenkins, and 
so does Mr.Wilkins, and so does Mr. Dickins, and you 
would swear that they were all her kins. Now this 
is very foolish, to say the least of it. None of these 
complaisant kins would like this in their own case. 
It is the fashion to say aye to all that a woman as- 
serts, or contends for, especially in contradiction to 
her husband ; and a very pernicious fashion it is. It 
is, in fact, not to pay her a compliment worthy of 
acceptance, but to treat her as an empty and conceit- 
ed fool ; and no sensible woman will, except from 
mere inadvertence, make the appeal. This fashion, 
however, foolish and contemptible as it is in itself, 
is attended, very frequently, with serious conse- 
quences. Backed by the opinion of her husband's 
friends, the wife returns to the charge with redoubled 
vigour and obstinacy; and if you do not yield, ten 
to one but a qvarrel is the result ; or, at least, some- 
thing approaching towards it. A gentleman at whose 
house I was, about five years ago, was about to take 
a farm for his eldest son, who was a very fine yo ng 
man, about eighteen years old. The mother, who 
was as virtuous and as sensible a woman as I have 
ever known, wished him to be " in the law." There 
were six or eight intimate friends present, and all 
unhesitatingly joined the lady, thinking it a pity 
that Harry, who had had "such a good education," 
should be buried in a farm-house. " And don't you 
think so too, Mr. Cobbett," said the lady, with great 
earnestness. " Indeed, Ma'am," said I, " I should think 
"it very great presumption in me to offer any 
"opinion at all, and especially in opposition to the 
" known decision of the father, who is the best judge, 



148 cobbett's advice [Letter 

" and the only rightful judge, in such a case." This 
was a very sensible and well-behaved woman, and I 
still respect her very highly ; but I could perceive 
that I instantly dropped out of her good graces. 
Harry, however, I was glad to hear, went " to be 
buried in the farm-house." 

189. " A house divided against itself," or, rather, 
in itself, " cannot stand ;" and it is divided against 
itself if there be a divided authority. The wife ought 
to be heard, and patiently heard ; she ought to be 
reasoned with, and, if possible, convinced ; but if, 
after all endeavours in this way, she remain opposed 
to the husband's opinion, his will must be obeyed ; 
or he, at once, becomes nothing ; she is, in fact, the 
master, and he is nothing but an insignificant in- 
mate. As to matters of little comparative moment ; 
as to what shall be for dinner ; as to how the house 
shall be furnished; as to the management of the 
house and of menial servants : as to those matters, 
and many others, the wife may have her way with- 
out any danger ; but when the questions are, what 
is to be the calling to be pursued ; what is to be the 
place of residence ; what is- to be the style of living 
and scale of expence ; what is to be done with pro- 
perty ; what the manner and place of educating 
children ; what is to be their calling' or state of life ; 
who are to be employed or entrusted by the hus- 
band ; what are the principles that he is to adopt as 
to public matters ; whom he is to have for coadju- 
tors or friends ; all these must be left solely to the 
husband ; in all these he must have his will ; or there 
never can be any harmony in the family. 

190. Nevertheless, in some of these concerns, 
wives should be heard with a great deal of attention, 
especially in the affairs of choosing your male ac- 
quaintances and friends and associates. Women are 
more quick-sighted than men ; they are less disposed 
to confide in persons upon a first acquaintance ; they 
are more suspicious as to motives ; they are less 
liable to be deceived by professions and protesta- 
tions ; they watch words with a more scrutinizing 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 149 

ear, and looks with a keener eye ; and, making due 
allowance for their prejudices in particular cases, 
their opinions and remonstrances, with regard to 
matters of this sort, ought not to be set at naught 
without great deliberation. Louvet, one of the 
Brissotins who fled for their lives in the time of Ro- 
bespierre ; this Louvet, in his narrative, entitled 
"Mes Perils," and which I read, for the first time, 
to divert my mind from the perils of the yellow-fe~ 
ver, in Philadelphia, but with which I was so capti- 
vated as to have read it many times since ; this wri- 
ter, giving an account of his wonderful dangers and 
escapes, relates, that being on his way to Paris from 
the vicinity of Bordeaux, and having no regular 
'passport, fell lame, but finally crept on to a misera- 
ble pot-house, in a small town in the Limosin. The 
landlord questioned him with regard to who and 
what he was, and whence he came ; and was satisfi- 
ed with his answers. But the landlady, who had 
looked sharply at him on his arrival, whispered a 
little boy, who ran away, and quickly returned with 
the mayor of the town. Louvet soon discovered 
that there was no danger in the mayor, who could 
not decipher his forged passport, and who, being 
well plied with wine, wanted to hear no more of the 
matter. The landlady, perceiving this, slipped out 
and brought a couple of aldermen, who asked to see 
the 'passport. "O, yes; but drink first." Then 
there was a laughing story to tell over again, at the 
request of the half-drunken mayor ; then a laughing 
and more drinking ; the passport in Louvet's hand, 
but never opened, and, while another toast was drink- 
ing, the passport slid back quietly into the pocket ; 
the woman looking furious all the while. At last, 
the mayor, the aldermen, and the landlord, all nearly 
drunk, shook hands with Louvet, and wished him a 
good journey, swore he was a true sans culotte ; but, 
he says, that the "sharp -sigh ted woman, who was 
u to be deceived by none of his stories or professions, 
* saw him get off with deep and manifest disappoint- 
"ment and chagrin." I have thought of this many 
13* 



150 cobbett'3 advice [Letter 

times since, when I have had occasion to witness 
the quick-sightedness and penetration of women. 
The same quality that makes them, as they noto- 
riously are, more quick in discovering expedients in 
cases of difficulty, makes them more apt to pene- 
trate into motives and character. 

191. I now come to a matter of the greatest pos- 
sible importance; namely, that great troubler of the 
married state, that great bane of families, jealousy; 
and 1 shall first speak of jealousy in the wife. This 
is always an unfortunate thing, and sometimes fatal. 
Yet, if there be a great propensity towards it, it is 
very difficult to be prevented. One thing, however, 
every husband can do in the way of prevention ; and 
that is, to give no ground, for it. And here, it is not 
sufficient that he strictly adhere to his marriage 
vow ; he ought further to abstain from every art, 
however free from guilt, calculated to awaken the 
slightest degree of suspicion in a mind, the peace of 
which he is bound by every tie of justice and hu- 
manity not to disturb, or, if he can avoid it, to suffer 
it to be disturbed by others. A woman that is very 
fond of her husband, and this is the case with nine- 
tenths of English and American women, does not 
like to share with another any, even the smallest 
portion, not only of his affection, but of his assidui- 
ties and applause ; and, as the bestowing of them on 
another, and receiving payment in kind, can serve 
no purpose other than of gratifying one's vanity, 
they ought to be abstained from, and especially if 
the gratification be to be purchased with even the 
chance of exciting uneasiness in her, whom it is 
your sacred duty to make as happy as you can. 

192. For about two or three years after I was 
married, I, retaining some of my military manners, 
used, both in France and America, to rowp most 
famously with the girls that came in my way ; till 
one day, at Philadelphia, my wife said to me, in a 
very gentle manner, "Don't, do that : / do not like 
UP That was quite enough : I had never thought 
on the subject before : one hair of her head was 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 151 

more dear to me than all the other women in the 
world, and this I knew that she knew ; but I now 
saw that this was not all that she had a right to from 
me ; I saw, that she had the further claim upon me 
that I should abstain from every thing that might 
induce others to believe that there was any other 
woman for whom, even if I were at liberty, I had 
any affection. I beseech young married men to bear 
this in mind; for. on some trifle ofnhis sort, the 
happiness or misery of a long life frequently turns. 
If the mind of a wife be disturbed on this score, 
every possible means ought to be used to restore it 
to peace ; and though her suspicions be perfectly 
groundless ; though they be wild as the dreams of 
madmen ; though they may present a mixture of the 
furious and the ridiculous, still they are to be treat- 
ed with the greatest lenity and tenderness ; and if, 
after all, you fail, the frailty is to be lamented as a 
misfortune, and not punished as a fault, seeing that 
it must have its foundation in a feeling towards you, 
which it would be the basest of ingratitude, and the 
most ferocious of cruelty, to repay by harshness of 
any description. 

193. As to those husbands who make the unjust 
suspicions of their wives a justification for making 
those suspicions just ; as to such as can make a sport 
of such suspicions, rather brag of them than other- 
wise, and endeavour to aggravate rather than as- 
suage them ; as to such I have nothing to say. they 
being far without the scope of any advice that I can 
offer. But to such as are not of this description, I 
have a remark or two to offer with respect to mea- 

•sures of prevention. 

194. And, first, I never could see the sense of its 
being a piece of etiquette, a sort of mark of good 
breeding-, to make it a rule that man and wife are not 
to sit side by side in a mixed company: that if a party 
walk out. the wife is to give her arm to some other 
than her husband ; that if there be any other hand 
near, his is not to help to a seat or into a carriage. 
I never could see the sense of this ; but I have al- 



152 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ways seen the nonsense of it plainly enough ; it is, 
in short, amongst many other foolish and mischie- 
vous things that we do in aping the manners of 
thosa whose riches (frequently ill-gotten) and whose 
power embolden them to set, with impunity, perni- 
cious examples ; and to their examples this nation 
owes more of its degradation in morals than to any 
other source. The truth is, that this is a piece of 
false refinement : it, being interpreted, means, that 
so free are the parties from a liability to suspicion, 
so innately virtuous and pure are they, that each 
man can safely trust his wife with another man, and 
each woman her husband with another woman. 
But this piece of false refinement, like all others, 
overshoots its mark ; it says too much ; for it says 
that the parties have lewd thoughts in their minds. 
This is not the fact, with regard to people in general; 
but it must have been the origin of this set of con- 
summately ridiculous and contemptible rules. 

195. Now I would advise a young man, especially 
if he have a pretty wife, not to commit her unneces- 
sarily to the care of any other man ; not to be sepa- 
rated from her in this studious and ceremonious 
manner ; and not to be ashamed to prefer her com- 
pany and conversation to that of any other woman. 
I never could discover any good breeding in set- 
ting another man, almost expressly, to poke his nose 
up in the face of my wife, and talk nonsense to her ; 
for, in such cases, nonsense it generally is. It is not 
a thing of much consequence, to be sure ; but when 
the wife is young, especially, it is not seemly, at any 
rate, and it cannot possibly lead to any good, though 
it may not lead to any great evil. And, on the " 
other hand, you may be quite sure that, whatever 
she may seem, to think of the matter, she will not 
like you the better for your attentions of this sort to 
other women, especially if they be young and hand- 
some : and as this species of fashionable nonsense 
can do you no good, why gratify your love of tajk, 
or the vanity of any woman, at even the risk of 
exciting uneasiness in that mind of which it is your 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 153 

most sacred duty to preserve, if you can, the uninter- 
rupted tranquillity. 

196. The truth is, that the greatest security of all 
against jealousy in a wife is to show, to prove, by 
your acts, by your words also, but more especially 
by your acts, that you prefer her to all the world ; 
and, as I said before, I know of no act that is, in this 
respect, equal to spending in her company every 
moment of your leisure time. Every body knows, 
and young wives better than any body else, that 
poople, who can choose, will be where they like best 
to he, and that they will be along with those whose 
company they best like. The matter is very plain, 
then, and I do beseech you to bear it in mind. Nor 
do I see the use, or sense, of keeping a great deal of 
company as it is called. What company can a 
young man and woman want more than their two 
selves, and their children, if they have any ? If 
here be not company enough, it is but a sad affair. 
The pernicious cards are brought forth by the com- 
pany-keeping, the rival expences, the sittings up 
late at night, the seeing of " the ladies home," and a 
thousand squabbles and disagreeable consequences. 
But, the great thing of all is, that this hankering 
after company, proves, clearly proves, that you 
want something beyond the society of your wife ; and 
that she is sure to feel most acutely : the bare fact 
contains an imputation against her, and it is pretty 
sure to lay the foundation of jealousy, or of some- 
thing still worse. 

197. If acts of kindness in you are necessary in 
all cases, they are especially so in cases of her ill- 
ness, from whatever cause arising. I will not sup- 
pose myself to be addressing any husband capable 
of being unconcerned while his wife's life is in the 
most distant danger from illness, though it has been 
my very great mortification to know in my life time, 
two or three brutes of this description ; but, far 
short of this degree of brutality, a great deal of 
fault may be committed. "When men are ill, they 
feel every neglect with double anguish, and, what 



154 cobeett s advice [Letter 

then must be in such cases the feelings of women, 
whose ordinary feelings are so much more acute 
than those of men ; what must be their feelings in 
case of neglect in illness, and especially if the neg- 
lect come from the husband ! Your own heart will, 
I hope, tell you what those feelings must be, and will 
spare me the vain attempt to describe them ; and, if 
it do thus instruct you, you will want no arguments 
from me to induce you, at such a season, to prove 
the sincerity of your affection by every kind word 
and kind act that your mind can suggest. This is 
the time to try you ; and be assured, that the im- 
pression left on her mind now will be the true and 
lasting impression ; and, if it be good, will be a 
better preservative against her being jealous, than 
ten thousand of your professions ten thousand times 
repeated. In such a case, you ought to spare no 
expense that you can possibly afford ; you ought to 
neglect nothing that your means will enable you to 
do ; for, what is the use of money if it be not 
to be expended in this case? But, more than all 
the rest, is your own personal attention. This is 
the valuable thing ; this is the great balm to the 
sufferer, and, it is efficacious in proportion as it is 
proved to be sincere. Leave nothing to other hands 
that you can do yourself; the mind has a great deal 
to do in all the ailments of the body, and, bear in 
mind, that, whatever be the event, you have a more 
than ample reward. I cannot press this point too 
strongly upon you ; the bed of sickness presents no 
charms, no allurements, and women know this well ; 
they w r atch, in such a case, your every word and 
every look : and now it is that their confidence is 
secured, or their suspicions excited, for life. 

198. In conclusion of these remarks, as to jea- 
lousy in a wife, I cannot help expressing my abhor- 
rence of those husbands who treat it as a matter for 
ridicule. To be sure, infidelity in a man is less hei- 
nous than infidelity in the wife ; but still, is the 
marriage vow nothing? Ts a promise solemnly 
made before God, and in the face of the world, no- 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 155 

thing? Is a violation of a contract, and that, too, 
with a feebler party, nothing of which a man ought 
to be ashamed? But, besides all these, there is the 
cruelty. First, you win, by great pains, perhaps, 
a woman's affections ; then, in order to get posses- 
sion of her person, you marry her; then, after en- 
joyment, you break your vow, you bring upon her 
the mixed pity and jeers of the world, and thus 
you leave her to weep out her life. Murder is more 
horrible than this, to be sure, and the criminal law, 
which punishes divers other crimes, does not reach 
this ; but, in the eye of reason and of a moral jus- 
tice, it is surpassed by very few of those crimes. 
Passion may be pleaded, and so it may, for almost 
every other crime of which man can be guilty. It is 
not a crime against nature ; nor are any of these 
which men commit in consequence of their necessi- 
ties. The temptation is great ; and is not the temp- 
tation great when men thieve or rob ? In short, there 
is no excuse for an act so unjust and so cruel, and the 
world is just as to this matter ; for, I have always 
observed, that, however men are disposed to laugh 
at these breaches of vows in men, the act seldom 
fails to produce injury to the whole character ; it 
leaves after all the joking, a stain, and, amongst those 
who depend on character for a livelihood, it often 
produces ruin. At the very least, it makes an un- 
happy and wrangling family ; it makes children 
despise or hate their fathers, and it affords an exam- 
ple at the thought of the ultimate consequences of 
which a father ought to shudder. In such a case, 
children will take part, and they ought to take part, 
with the mother : she is the injured party ; the 
shame brought upon her attaches, in part, to them: 
they feel the injustice done them ; and, if such a 
man, when the grey hairs, and tottering knees, and 
piping voice come, look around him in vain for a 
prop, let him, at last, be just, and acknowledge that 
he has now the due reward of his own wanton cruel- 
ty to one whom he had solemnly sworn to love 
and to cherish to the last hour of his or her life. 



156 uobbett's advice [Letter 

199. But, bad as is conjugal infidelity in the hus- 
band, it is much worse in the wife : a proposition 
that it is necessary to maintain by the force of rea- 
son, because the women, as a sisterhood, are prone to 
deny the truth of it. They say that adultery is 
adultery, in men as well as in them; and that, there- 
fore, the offence is as great in the one case as in the 
other. As a crime, abstractedly considered, it cer- 
tainly is ; but, as to the consequences, there is a wide 
difference. In both cases, there is the breach of a 
solemn vow, but, there is this great distinction, that 
the husband, by his breach of that vow, only brings 
shame upon his wife and family ; whereas the wife, 
by a breach of her vow, may bring the husband a 
spurious offspring to maintain, and may bring that 
spurious offspring to rob of their fortunes, and in 
some cases of their bread, her legitimate children. 
So that here is a great and evident wrong done to 
numerous parties, besides the deeper disgrace inflict- 
ed in this case than in the other. 

200. And why is the disgrace deeper? Because 
here is a total want of delicacy ; here is, in fact, 
prostitution; here is grossness and filthiness of 
mind ; here is every thing that argues baseness of 
character. Women should be, and they are, except 
in few instances, far more reserved and more delicate 
than men ; nature bids them be such ; the habits and 
manners of the world confirm this precept of nature ; 
and therefore, when they commit this offence, they 
excite loathing, as well as call for reprobation. In 
the countries where a plurality of wives is permitted, 
there is no plurality of husbands. It is there thought 
not at all indelicate for a man to have several wives ; 
but the bare thought of a woman having two hus» 
bands would excite horror. The widows of the 
Hindoos burn themselves in the pile that consumes 
their husbands ; but the Hindoo widowers do not 
dispose of themselves in this way. The widows 
devote their bodies to complete destruction, lest, even 
after the death of their husbands, they should be 
tempted to connect themselves with other men j and 



IV. J TO A HUSBAND. 157 

though this is carrying delicacy far indeed, it reads 
to Christian wives a lesson not unworthy of their 
attention ; for, though it is not desirable that their 
bodies should be turned into handfuls of ashes, even 
that transmutation were preferable to that infidelity 
which fixes the brand of shame on the cheeks of 
their parents, their children, and on those of all who 
ever called them friend, 

201. For these plain and forcible reasons it is that 
this species of offence is far more heinous in the 
wife than in the husband; and the people of all ci- 
vilized countries act upon this settled distinction. 
Men who have been guilty of the offence are not cu\ 
off from society, but women who have been guilty 
of it are ; for, as we all know well, no woman, mar- 
ried or single, of fair reputation, will risk that re- 
putation by being ever seen, if she can avoid it, with 
a woman who has ever, at any time, committed this 
offence, which contains in itself, and by universal 
award, a sentence of social excommunication for 
life. 

202. If, therefore, it be the duty of the husband 
to adhere strictly to his marriage vow : if his breach 
of that vow be naturally attended with the fatal con- 
sequences above described : how much more impe- 
rative is the duty on the wife to avoid, even the 
semblance of a deviation from that vow ! If the 
man's misconduct, in this respect, bring shame on so 
many innocent parties, what shame, what dishonour, 
what misery follow such misconduct in the wife ! 
Her parents, those of her husband, all her relations, 
and all her friends, share in her dishonour. And 
her children! how is she to make atonement to 
them ! They are commanded to honour their father 
and their mother ; but not such a mother as this, 
who, on the contrary, has no claim to any thing 
from them but hatred, abhorrence, and execration. 
It is she who has broken the ties of nature ; she has 
dishonoured her own offspring ; she has fixed a mark 
of reproach on those who once made a part of her 
own body ; nature shuts her out of the pale of its 

14 



158 cobbett's advice [Letter 

influence, and condemns her to the just detestation 
of those whom it formerly bade love her as their 
own life. 

203. But as the crime is so much more heinous, 
and the punishment so much more severe, in the 
case of the wife than it is in the case of the husband, 
so the caution ought to be greater in making the ac- 
cusation, or entertaining the suspicion. Men ought 
to be very slow in entertaining such suspicions: 
they ought to have clear proof before they can sus- 
pect : a proneness to such suspicions is a very un- 
fortunate turn of the mind ; and, indeed, few charac- 
ters are more despicable than that of a jealous-headed 

husband. ; rather than be tied to the whims of one 
of whom, an innocent woman of spirit would earn 
her bread over the washing-tub, or with a hay-fork, 
or a reap-hook. With such a man there can be no 
peace ; and, as far as children are concerned, the 
false accusation is nearly equal to the reality. When 
a wife discovers her jealousy, she merely imputes to 
her husband inconstancy and breach of his marriage 
vow ; but jealousy in him imputes to her a willing- 
ness to palm a spurious offspring upon him, and upon 
her legitimate children, as robbers of their birth- 
right; and, besides this, grossness, filthiness, and 
prostitution. She imputes to him injustice and cru- 
elty : but he imputes to her that which banishes her 
from society ; that which cuts her off for life from 
every thing connected with female purity; that 
which brands her with infamy to her latest breath. 

204. Very slow, therefore, ought a husband to be 
in entertaining even the thought of this crime in his 
wife. He ought to be quite sure before he take the 
smallest step in the way of accusation ; but if un- 
happily he have the proof, no consideration on earth 
ought to induce him to cohabit with her one moment 
longer. Jealous husbands are not despicable because 
they have grounds ; but because they have not 
grounds ; and this is generally the case. WTien 
they have grounds, their own honour commands 
them to cast off the object, as they would cut out a 



IV. I TO A HUSBAND. 159 

corn or a cancer. It is not the jealousy in itself, 
which is despicable; but the continuing to live in 
that state. It is no dishonour to be a slave in Al- 
giers, for instance ; the dishonour begins only where 
you remain a slave voluntarily ; it begins the mo- 
ment you can escape from slavery, and do not. It 
is despicable unjustly to be jealous of your wife; 
but it is infamy to cohabit with her if you know her 
to be guilty. 

205. I shall be told that the law compels you to 
live with her, unless you be rich enough to disen- 
gage yourself from her ; but the law does not com- 
pel you to remain in the same country with her ; 
and, if a man have no other means of ridding him- 
self of such a curse, w 7 hat are mountains or seas or 
traverse? And what is the risk (if such there be) 
of exchanging a life of bodily ease for a life of la- 
bour? What are these, and numerous other ills (if 
they happen) superadded ? Nay, what is death itself, 
compared with the baseness, the infamy, the never- 
ceasing shame and reproach of living under the same 
roof with a prostituted woman, and calling her your 
wife ? But. there are children, and what are to be- 
come of these? To be taken away from the pro- 
stitute, to be sure ; and this is a duty which you owe 
to them : the sooner they forget her the better, and 
the farther they are from her, the sooner that will 
be. There is no excuse for continuing to live with 
an adultress ; no inconvenience, no loss, no suffering, 
ought to deter a man from delivering himself from 
such a state of filthy infamy ; and to suffer his chil- 
dren to remain in such a state, is a crime that hardly 
admits of adequate description ; a jail is paradise 
compared with such a life, and he who can endure 
this latter, from the fear of encountering hardship, 
is a wretch too despicable to go by the nam* of mam 

206. But, now, all this supposes, that the husband 
has well and truly acted his part! It supposes, not 
only that he has been faithful ; but, that he has rot, 
in any way, been the cause of temptation to the wife 
to be unfaithful. If he have been cold and neglect- 



160 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ful ; if he have led a life of irregularity : if he have 
proved to her that home was not his delight ; if he 
have made his house the place of resort for loose 
companions ; if he have given rise to a taste for 
visiting, junketting, parties of pleasure and gaiety; 
if he have introduced the habit of indulging in what 
are called " innocent freedoms ;" if these, or any of 
these, the fault is his, he must take the consequences, 
and he has no right to inflict punishment on the of- 
fender, the offence being in fact of his own creating. 
The laws of God, as well as the laws of man, have 
given him all power in this respect : it is for him to 
use that power for the honour of his wife as well as 
for that of himself: if he neglect to use it, all the 
consequences ought to fall on him ; and, as far as my 
observation has gone, in nineteen out of twenty 
cases of infidelity in wives, the crimes have been 
fairly ascribable to the husbands. Folly or miscon- 
duct in the husband, cannot, indeed, justify or even 
palliate infidelity in the wife, whose very nature 
ought to make her recoil at the thought of the of- 
fence ; but it may, at the same time, deprive him of 
the right of inflicting punishment on her: her kin- 
dred, her children, and the world, will justly hold 
her in abhorrence : but the husband must hold his 
peace. 

207. " Innocent freedoms /" I know of none that a 
wife can indulge in. The words, as applied to the 
demeanour of a married woman, or even a single 
one, imply a contradiction. For freedom,, thus used, 
means an exemption or departure from the strict 
rules of female reserve ; and, I do not see how this 
can be innocent. It may not amount to crime, in- 
deed ; but, still it is not innocent ; and the use of the 
phrase is dangerous. If it had been my fortune to 
be yoked to a person, who liked " innocent freedoms," 
I should have unyoked myself in a very short time. 
But, to say the truth, it is all a man's own fault. If 
he have not sense and influence enough to prevent 
" innocent freedoms," even before marriage, he will 
do well to let the thing alone, and leave wives to be 



IV.J TO A HUSBAND. 161 

managed by those who have. But, men will talk to 
your wife, and flatter her. To be sure they will, if 
she be young and pretty ; and would you go and pull 
her away from them l O no, by no means ; but you 
must have very little sense, or must have made very 
little use of it, if her manner do not soon convince 
them that they employ their flattery in vain. 

208. So much of a man's happiness and of his 
efficiency through life depends upon his mind being 
quite free from all anxieties of this sort, that too 
much care cannot be taken to guard against them ; 
and, I repeat, that the great preservation of all is, 
the young couple living as much as possible at home, 
and having as few visitors as possible. If they do 
not prefer the company of each other to that of all 
the world besides; if either of them be weary of the 
company of the other ; if they do not, when sepa- 
rated by business or any other cause, think with 
pleasure of the time of meeting again, it is a bad 
omen. Pursue this course when young, and the 
very thought of jealousy will never come into your 
mind; and, if you do pursue it, and show by your 
deeds that you value your wife as you do your own 
life, you must be pretty nearly an idiot, if she do not 
think you to be the wisest man in the world. The 
best man she will be sure to think you, and she will 
never forgive any one that calls your talents or your 
wisdom in question. 

209. Now, will you say that, if to be happy, nay 3 
if to avoid misery and ruin in the married state, re- 
quires all these precautions, all these cares, to fail to 
any extent in any of which is to bring down on a 
man's head such fearful consequences; will you say 
that, if this be the case, it is better to remain single? 
If you should say this, it is my business to show 
that you are in error. For, in the first place, it is 
against nature to suppose that children can cease to 
be born ; they must and will come ; and then it fol- 
lows, that they must come by promiscuous inter- 
course, or by particular connexion. The former no- 
body will contend for, seeing that it would put us 3 

14* 



162 cobbett's advice [Letter 

in this respect, on a level with the brute creation. 
Then, as the connexion is to be particular, it must 
be during pleasure, or for the joint lives of the par- 
ties. The former would seldom hold for any length 
of time : the tie would seldom be durable, and it 
w r ould be feeble on account of its uncertain duration. 
Therefore, to be a father, with all the lasting and de- 
lightful ties attached to the name, you must first be 
a husband ; and there are very few men in the world 
who do not, first or last, desire to be fathers. If it be 
said, that marriage ought not to be for life, but that 
its duration ought to be subject to the will, the mu- 
tual will at least, of the parties ; the answer is, that 
it would seldom be of long duration. Every trifling 
dispute would lead to a separation ; a hasty word 
would be enough. Knowing that the engagement is 
for life, prevents disputes too ; it checks anger in its 
beginnings. Put a rigging horse into a field with a 
weak fence, and with captivating pasture on the 
other side, and he is continually trying to get out ; 
but, let the field be walled round, he makes the best 
of his hard fare, and divides his time between gra- 
zing and sleeping. Besides, there could be no fami- 
lies, no assemblages of persons worthy of that name; 
all would be confusion and indescribable intermix- 
ture: the names of brother and sister would hardly 
have a meaning; and, therefore, there must be mar- 
riage, or there can be nothing worthy of the name 
of family or of father. 

210. The cares and troubles of the married life 
are many; but, are those of the single life few? 
Take the farmer, and it is nearly the same with the 
tradesman ; but, take the farmer, for instance, and 
let him, at the age Of twenty-five, go into business 
unmarried. See his maid servants, probably rivals 
for his smiles, but certainly rivals in the charitable 
distribution of his victuals and drink amongst those 
of their own rank : behold their guardianship of his 
pork-tub, his bacon rack, his butter, cheese, milk, 
poultry, eggs, and all the rest of it : look at their 
care of all his household stuff, his blankets, sheets, 



I V.J TO A HUSBAND. 163 

pillow-cases, towels, knives and forks, and particu- 
larly of his crockery ware, • c which last they will 
hardly exceed a single cart-load of broken bits in the 
year. And, how nicely they will get up and take 
care of his linen and other wearing apparel, and al- 
ways have it ready for him without his thinking 
about it ! If absent at market, or especially at a dis- 
tant fair, how scrupulously they will keep all their 
cronies out of his house, and what special care they 
will take of his cellar, more particularly that which 
holds the strong beer ! And his groceries and his 
spirits and his wine (for a bachelor can afford it), 
how safe these will. all be! Bachelors have not, in 
deed, any more than married men, a security for 
health; but if our young farmer be sick, there are 
his couple of maids to take care of him, to adminis- 
ter his medicine, and to perform for him all other 
nameless offices, which in such a case are required ; 
and what is more, take care of every thing down 
stairs at the same time, especially his desk with the 
money in it ! Never will they, good-humoured girls 
as they are, scold him for coming home too late ; 
but, on the contrary, like him the better for it ; and 
if he have drunk a little too much, so much the bet- 
ter, for then he will sleep late in the morning, and 
when he comes out at last, he will find that his men 
have been so hard at work, and that, all his animals 
have been taken such good care of ! 

211. Nonsense! a bare glance at the thing shows, 
that a farmer, above all men living, can never carry 
on his affairs with profit without a wife, or a mother, 
or a daughter, or some such person ; and mother and 
daughter imply matrimony. To be sure, a wife 
would cause some trouble, perhaps, to this young 
man. There might be the midwife and nurse to gal- 
lop after at midnight; there might be, and there 
ought to be, if called for, a little complaining of late 
hours ; but, good God ! what are these, and all the 
other troubles that could attend a married life; what 
are they, compared to the one single circumstance 
of the want of a wife at your bedside during one 



164 cobbett's advice [Letter 

single night of illness ! A nurse ! wnat is a nurse to 
do for you ? Will she do the things that a wife will 
do? Will she watch your looks and your half-utter- 
ed wishes? Will she use the urgent persuasions so 
often necessary to save life in such cases? Will she, 
by her acts, convince you that it is not a toil, but a 
delight, to break her rest for your sake ? In short, 
now it is that you find that what the women them- 
selves say is strictly true, namely, that without wives, 
men are poor helpless mortals. 

212. As to the expense, there is no comparison 
between that of a woman servant and a wife, in the 
house of a farmer or a tradesman. The wages of the 
former is not the expense ; it is the want of a com* 
mon interest with you, and this you can obtain in no 
one but a wife. But there are the children. I, for 
my part, firmly believe that a farmer, married at 
twenty-five, and having ten children during the 
first ten years, would be able to save more money 
during these years, than a bachelor, of the same age, 
would be able to save, on the same farm, in a like 
space of time, he keeping only one maid servant. 
One single fit of illness, of two months' duration^ 
might sweep away more than all the children would 
cost in the whole ten years, to say nothing of the 
continual waste and pillage, and the idleness, going 
on from the first day of the ten years to the last. 

213. Besides, is the money all ? What a life to 
lead ! No one to talk to without going from home, 
or without getting some one to come to you ; no 
friend to sit and talk to : pleasant evenings to pass ! ! 
Nobody to share with you your sorrows or your plea- 
sures : no soul having a common interest with you : 
all around you taking care of themselves, and no 
care of you : no one to cheer you in moments of 
depression : to say all in a word, no one to love you, 
and no prospect of ever seeing any such one to the 
end of your days. For, as to parents and brethren, 
if you have them, they have other and very differ- 
ent ties ; and, however laudable your feelings as son 
and brother, those feelings are of a different charac- 



IV. J TO A HUSBAND. 165 

ter. Then as to gratifications, from which you will 
hardly abstain altogether, are they generally of lit- 
tle expense ? and are they attended with no trouble, 
no vexation, no disappointment, no jealousy even, 
and are they never followed by shame or remorse? 

214. It does very well in bantering songs, to say 
that the bachelor's life is " devoid of care." My ob- 
servation tells me the contrary, and reason concurs, 
in this regard, with experience. The bachelor has 
no one on whom he can in all cases rely. When he 
quits his honfe, he carries with him cares that are 
unknown to the married man. If, indeed, like the 
common soldier, he have merely a lodging-place, 
and a bundle of clothes, given in charge to some 
one, he may be at his ease ; but if he possess any 
thing of a home, he is never sure of its safety ; and 
this uncertainty is a great enemy to cheerfulness. 
And as to efficiency in life, how is the bachelor to 
equal the married man ? In the case of farmers 
and tradesmen, the latter have so clearly the advan- 
tage over the former, that one need hardly insist 
upon the point ; but it is, and must be, the same in 
all the situations of life. To provide for a wife and 
children is the greatest of all possible spurs to exer- 
tion. Many a man, naturally prone to idleness has 
become active and industrious when he saw child- 
ren growing up about him ; many a dull sluggard 
has become, if not a bright man, at least a bustling 
man, when roused to exertion by his love. Dry den's 
account of the change wrought in Cymon, is only a 
strong case of the kind. And, indeed, if a man will 
not exert himself for the sake of a wife and children, 
he can have no exertion in him ; or he must be deaf 
to all the dictates of nature. 

215. Perhaps the world never exhibited a more 
striking proof of the truth of this doctrine than that 
which is exhibited in me ; and I am sure that every 
one will say, without any hesitation, that a fourth 
part of the labours, I have performed, never would 
have been performed, if I had. not .been a married 
man. In the first place, they could not ; for I should 



166 cobbett s advice [Letter 

all the early part of my life, have been rambling and 
roving about as most bachelors are. I should have 
had no home that I cared a straw about, and should 
have wasted the far greater part of my time. The 
great affair of heme being settled, having the home 
secured, I had leisure to employ my mind on things 
which it delighted in. I got. rid at once of all cares, 
all anxieties, and had only to provide for the very 
moderate wants of that home. But the children 
began to come. They sharpened my industry : 
they spurred me on. To be sure, I had other and 
strong motives : I wrote for fame, and was urged 
forward by ill-treatment, and by the desire to tri- 
umph over my enemies ; but, after all, a very large 
part of my nearly a hundred volumes may be fairly 
ascribed to the wife and children. 

216. I might have done something ; but, perhaps, 
not a thousandth part of what I have done ; not 
even a thousandth part : for the chances are, that I, 
being fond of a military life, should have ended my 
days ten or twenty years ago. in consequence of 
wounds, or fatigue, or, more likely in consequence 
of the persecutions of some haughty and insolent 
fool, whom nature had formed to black my shoes, 
and whom a system of corruption had made my 
commander. Love came and rescued me from this 
state of horrible slavery ; placed the whole of my 
time at my own disposal ; made me as free as air ; 
removed every restraint upon the operations oi 
my mind, naturally disposed to communicate its 
thoughts to others ; and gave me, for my leisure 
hours, a companion, who, though deprived of all 
opportunity of acquiring what is called learning; 
had so much good sense, so much useful knowledge, 
was so innocent, so just in all her ways, so pure in 
thought, word and deed, so disinterested, so gene- 
rous, so devoted to me and her children, so free 
from all disguise, and, withal, so beautiful and so 
talkative, and in a voice so sweet, so chee v ing. that I 
must, seeing the health and the capacity which it 
had pleased God to give me, have been a criminal, if 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 167 

I had done much less than that which I have done ; 
and I have always said, tjiat if my country feel any 
gratitude for my labours, that gratitude is due to her 
full as much as to me. 

217. " Care '" What care have I known ! I have 
been buffetted about by this powerful and vindictive 
Government ; I have repeatedly had the fruit of my 
labour snatched away from me by it ; but I had a 
partner that never frowned, that was never me- 
lancholy, that never was subdued in spirit, that 
never abated a smile, on these occasions, that for- 
tified me, and sustained me by her courageous ex- 
ample, and that was just as busy and as zealous in 
taking care of the remnant as she had been in taking 
care of the whole ; just as cheerful, and just as full 
of caresses, when brought down to a mean hired 
lodging, as when the mistress of a fine country 
house, with all its accompaniments ; and, whether 
from her words or her looks, no one could gather 
that she regretted the change. What " cares" have 
I had. then ? What have I had worthy of the name 
of " cares?" 

218. And, how is it now ? How is it when the 
sixty-fourth year has come ? And how should I have 
been without this wife and these children % I wight 
have amassed a tolerable heap of woney ; but what 
would that have done for me ? It might have bought 
me plenty of professions of attachment ; plenty of 
persons impatient for my exit from the world ; but 
not one single grain of sorrow, for any anguish that 
might have attended my approaching end. To me, 
no being in this world appears so wretched as an 
Old Bachelor. Those circumstances, those changes 
in his person and in his mind, which, in the hus- 
band, increase rather than diminish the attentions to 
him, produce all the want of feeling attendant on 
disgust ; and he beholds, in the conduct of the mer- 
cenary crew that generally surround him, little 
besides an eager desire to profit from that event, 
the approach of which, nature makes a subject of 
sorrow with him. 



168 cobbett's advice [Letter 

219. Before I quit this part of my work, I cannot 
refrain from offering my opinion with regard to 
what is due from husband to wife, when the disposal 
of his property comes to be thought of. When mar- 
riage is an affair settled by deeds, contracts, and law- 
yers, the husband, being bound beforehand, has really 
no will to make. But where he has a will to make, 
and a faithful wife to leave behind him, it is his first 
duty to provide for her future well-being, to the 
utmost of his power. If she brought him no money , 
she brought him her person ; and by delivering that 
up to him, she established a claim to his careful pro- 
tection of her to the end of her life. Some men 
think, or act as if they thought, that, if a wife bring 
no money, and if the husband gain money by his 
business or profession, that money is his, and not 
hers, because she has not been doing any of those 
things for which the money has been received. But 
is this way of thinking just ? By the marriage vow, 
the husband endows the wife with all his worldly 
goods ; and not a bit too much is this, when she is 
giving him the command and possession of her per- 
son. But does she not help to acquire the money ? 
Speaking, for instance, of the farmer or the mer- 
chant, the wife does not, indeed, go to plough, or to 
look after the ploughing and sowing ; she does not 
purchase or sell the stock ; she does not go to the 
fair or the market ; but she enables him to do all 
these without injury to his affairs at home ; she is 
the guardian of his property ; she preserves what 
would otherwise be lost to him. The barn and the 
granary, though they create nothing, have, in the 
bringing of food to our mouths, as much merit as 
the fields themselves. The wife does not, indeed, 
assist in the merchant's counting-house ; she does 
. not go upon the exchange ; she does not eyen know 
what he is doing ; but she keeps his house in order ; 
she rears up his children ; she provides a scene of 
suitable resort for his friends ; she insures him a 
constant retreat from the fatigues of his affairs ; she 



I V.J TO A HUSBAND. 1€9 

makes his home pleasant, and she is the guardian of 
his income. 

220. In both these cases, the wife helps to gain 
the money ; and in cases where there is no gain, 
where the income is by descent, or is fixed, she 
helps to prevent it from being squandered away. It 
is, therefore, as much hers as it is the husband's ; 
and though the law gives him, in many cases, the 
power of keeping her share from her, no just man 
will ever avail himself of that power. With regard 
to the tying up of widows from marrying again, I 
will relate what took place in a case of this kind, in 
America. A merchant, who had, during his mar- 
ried state, risen from poverty to very great riches, 
and who had, nevertheless, died at about forty years 
of age, left the whole of his property to his wife for 
her life, and at her disposal at her death, provided 
that she did not marry. The consequence was, that 
she took a husband without marrying, and, at her 
death (she having no children,) gave the whole of 
the property to the second husband ! So much for 
posthumous jealousy ! 

221. Where there are children, indeed, it is the 
duty of the husband to provide, in certain cases, 
against step-fathers, who are very prone not to be 
the most just and affectionate parents. It is an un- 
happy circumstance, when a dying father is com- 
pelled to have fears of this sort. There is seldom 
an apology to be offered for a mother that will hazard 
the happiness of her children by a second marriage. 
The law allows it, to be sure ; but there is, as Prior 
says, " something beyond the letter of the law." I 
know what ticklish ground I am treading on here ; 
but, though it is as lawful for a woman to take a se- 
cond husband as for a man to take a second wife, 
the cases are different, and widely different, in the 
eye of morality and of reason ; for, as adultery in 
the wife is a greater offence than adultery in the 
husband ; as it is more gross, as it includes prostitu- 
tion ; so a second marriage in the woman is more 
gross than in the man, argues great deficiency in 

15 



170 cobbett's advice [Letter 

that delicacy, that innate modesty, which, after all, 
is the great charm, the charm of charms, in the fe- 
male sex. I do not like to hear a man talk of his 
first wife, especially in the presence of a second ; but 
to hear a woman thus talk of her first husband, has 
never, however beautiful and good she might be, 
failed to sink her in my estimation. I have, in such 
cases, never been able to keep out of my mind that 
concatenation of ideas, which, in spite of custom, in 
. spite of the frequency of the occurrence, leave an 
impression deeply disadvantageous to the party ; for, 
after the greatest of ingenuity has exhausted itself 
in the way of apology, it comes to this at last, that 
the person has a second time undergone that surren- 
der, to which nothing but the most ardent affection, 
could ever reconcile a chaste and delicate woman. 

222. The usual apologies, that u a lone woman 
"wants a protector; that she cannot manage her 
" estate ; that she cannot carry on her business ; that 
"she wants a home for her* children;" all these 
apologies are not worth a straw ; for what is the 
amount of them ? Why, that she surrenders her 
person to secure these ends ! And if we admit the 
validity of such apologies, are we far from apologi- 
sing for the kept-mistress, and even the prostitute ? 
Nay, the former of these may (if she confine herself 
to one man) plead more boldly in her defence ; and 
even the latter may plead that hunger, which knows 
no law, and no decorum, and no delicacy. These 
unhappy, but justly-reprobated and despised parties, 
are allowed no apology at all : though reduced to 
the begging of their bread, the world grants them no 
excuse. The sentence on them is: "You shall suf- 
"fer every hardship; you shall submit to hunger 
"and nakedness; you shall perish by the way- side, 
" rather than you shall surrender* your person to the 
" dishonour of the female sex." But can we, without 
crying injustice pass this sentence upon them, and, 
at the same time hold it to be proper, decorous, and 
delicate, that widows shall surrender their persons 



IV.] TO A HUSBAND. 171 

for worldly gain, for the sake of ease, or for any 
consideration whatsoever ? 

223. It is disagreeable to contemplate the possi- 
bility of cases of separation ; but amongst ihe evils 
of life, such have occurred, and will occur ; and the 
injured parties, while they are sure to meet with the 
pity of all just persons, must console themselves 
that they have not merited their fate. In the making 
one's choice, no human foresight or prudence can, 
in all cases, guard against an unhappy result. There 
is one species of husbands to be occasionally met 
with in all countries, meriting particular reprobation, 
and causing us to lament, that there is no law to 
punish offenders so enormous. There was a man in 
Pennsylvania, apparently a very amiable youngman, 
having a good estate of his own, and marrying a 
most beautiful woman of his own age, of rich pa- 
rents, and of virtue perfectly spotless, He very 
soon took to both gaming and drinking (the last 
being the most fashionable vice of the country ;) he 
neglected his affairs and his family ; in about four 
years spent his estate, and became a dependent on 
his wife's father, together with his wife and three 
children. Even this would have been of little con- 
sequence, as far as related to expense ; but he led 
the most scandalous life, and was incessant in his 
demands of money for the purposes of that infa- 
mous life. All sorts of means we r e resorted to to 
reclaim him, and all in vain ; and the wretch, avail- 
ing himself of the pleading of his wife's affection, 
and of his power over the children more especially, 
continued for ten or twelve years to plunder the pa- 
rents, and to disgrace those whom it was his boun- 
den duty to assist in making happy. At last, going 
out in the dark, in a boat, and being partly drunk, 
he went to the bottom of the Delaware, and became 
food for otters or fishes, to the great joy of all who 
knew him, excepting only his amiable wife. I can 
form an idea of no baseness equal to this. There is 
more of baseness in this character than in that of 
the robber. The man who obtains the means of in- 



172 cobbett's advice [Letter 

dulging in vice, by robbery, exposes himself to the 
inflictions of the law ; but though he merits punish- 
ment, he merits it less than the base miscreant who 
obtains his means by his threats to disgrace his own 
wife j children, and the wife's 'parents. The short 
way in such a case, is the best ; set the wretch at 
defiance ; resort to the strong arm of the law where- 
ever it will avail you ; drive him from your house 
like a mad dog; for, be assured, that a being so base 
and cruel is never to be reclaimed : all your efforts 
at persuasion are useless ; his promises and vows 
are made but to be broken ; all your endeavours to 
keep the thing from the knowledge of the world, 
only prolong his plundering of you ; and many a 
tender father and mother have been ruined by such 
endeavours ; the whole story must come out at last, 
and it is better to come out before you be ruined, 
than after your ruin is completed. 

224. However, let me hope, that those who read 
this work will always be secure against evils like 
these ; let me hope, that the young men who read it 
will abstain from those vices which lead to such fatal 
results : that they will, before they utter the mar- 
riage vow, duly reflect on the great duties that that 
vow imposes on them ; that they will repel, from 
the outset, every temptation to any thing tending to 
give pain to the defenceless persons whose love for 
them have placed them at their mercy ; and that 
they will imprint on their own minds this truth, that 
a bad husband was never yet a happy man. 



V.] TO A FATHER. 173 



LETTER V. 

TO A FATHER. 



225. " Little children," says the Scripture, " are 
"like arrows in the hands of the giant, and blessed 
"is the man that hath his quiver full of them f a 
beautiful figure to describe, in forcible terms, the 
support, the power, which a father derives from be- 
ing surrounded by a family. And what father, thus 
blessed, is there who does not feel, in this sort of 
support, a reliance which he feels in no other ? In 
regard to this sort of support there is no uncertain- 
ty, no doubts, no misgivings; it is yourself ^that you 
see in your children: their bosoms are the safe re- 
pository of even the whispers of your mind : they 
are the great and unspeakable delight of your youth, 
the pride of your prime of life, and the props of 
your old age. They proceed from that love, the 
pleasures of which no tongue or pen can adequately 
describe, and the various blessings which they bring 
are equally incapable of description. 

226. But, to make them blessings, you must act 
your part well ; for they may, by your neglect, your 
ill-treatment, your evil example, be made to be the 
contrary of blessings ; instead of pleasure, they may 
bring you pain ; instead of making your heart glad, 
the sight of them may make it sorrowful ; instead 
of being the staff of your old age, they may bring 
your gray hairs in grief to the grave. 

227. It is, therefore, of the greatest importance, 
that you here act well your part, omitting nothing, 
even from the very beginning, tending to give you 
great and unceasing influence over their minds : and, 
above all things, to ensure, if possible, an ardent 
love of they* mother. Your first duty towards them 
is resolutely to prevent their drawing the means of 
life from any breast but hers. That is their own : it 

15* 



174 cobbett's advice [Letter 

is their birth-right; and if that fail from any natu- 
ral cause, the place of it ought to be supplied by 
those means which are frequently resorted to with- 
out employing a hireling breast. 1 am aware of the 
too frequent practice of the contrary ; I am well 
aware of the offence which I shall here give to many; 
but it is for me to do my duty, and to set, 'with re- 
gard to myself, consequences at defiance. 

228. In the first place, no food is so congenial to 
the child as the milk of its own mother; its quality 
is made by nature to suit the age of the child ; it 
comes with the child, and is calculated precisely for 
its stomach. And, then, what sort of a mother must 
that be who can endure the thought of seeing her 
child at another breast ! The suckling may be at- 
tended with great pain, and it is so attended in many 
cases ; but this pain is a necessary consequence of 
pleasures foregone; and, besides, it has its accompany- 
ing pleasures too. No mother ever suffered more than 
my wife did from suckling her children. How many 
times have I seen her, when the child was begin- 
ning to draw, bite her lips while the tears ran down 
her cheeks ! Yet, having endured this, the smiles 
came and dried up the tears ; and the little thing that 
had caused the pain received abundant kisses as its 
punishment. 

229. Why, now, did I not love her the more for 
this ? Did not this tend to rivet her to my heart ? 
She was enduring this for me; and would not this 
endearing thought have been wanting, if I had seen 
the baby at a breast that I had hired and paid for ; 
if I had had two women, one to bear the child and 
another to give it milk ? Of all the sights that this 
world affords, the most delightful in my eyes, even 
to an unconcerned spectator, is, a mother with her 
clean and fat baby lugging at her breast, leaving off 
now-and-then and smiling, and she, occasionally, 
half smothering it with kisses. What must that 
sight be, then, to the father of the child % 

230. Besides, are we to overlook the great and 
wonderful effect that this has on the minds of chil- 



V.J TO A FATHER. 175 

dren ? As they succeed each other, they see with 
their own eyes, the pain, the care, the caresses, which 
their mother has endured for, or bestowed, on them; 
and nature bids-them love her accordingly. To love 
her ardently becomes part of their very nature; and 
when the time comes that her advice to them is ne- 
cessary as a guide for their conduct, this deep and 
early impression has all its natural weight, which 
must be wholly wanting if the child be banished to 
a hireling breast, and only brought at times into the 
presence of the mother, who is, in fact, no mother, 
or, at least, but half a one. The children who are 
thus banished, love (as is natural and just) the foster- 
mother better than the real mother as long as they 
are at the breast. When this ceases, they are taught 
to love their own mother most; but this teaching is 
of a cold and formal kind. They may, and generally 
do, in a short time, care little about the foster-mo- 
ther ; the teaching weans all their affection from her, 
but it does not transfer it to the other. 

231. I had the pleasure to know, in Hampshire, 
a lady who had brought up a family of ten children 
by hand, as they call it. Owing to some defect, shs 
could not suckle her children ; but she wisely and 
heroically resolved, that her children should hang 
upon no other breast, and that she would not parti- 
cipate in the crime of robbing another child of its 
birthright, and, as is mostly the case, of its life. Who 
has not seen these banished children, when brought 
and put into the arms of their mothers, rcreaming 
to get from them, and stretch out their little hands to 
get back into the arms of the nurse, and when safely 
got there, hugging the hireling as if her bosom w T ere 
a place of refuge 1 ? Why, such a sight is, one would 
think, enough to strike a mother dead. And what 
sort of a husband and father, I want to know, must 
that be, who can endure the thought of his child 
l<3ving another woman more than its own mother 
and his wife 7 

232. And besides all these considerations, is there 
no crime in robbing the child of the* nurse, and in 



1*76 cobbetts advice [Letter 

exposing it to perish 1 It will not do to say that the 
child of the nurse may be dead, and thereby leave her 
breast for the use of some other. Such cases must 
happen too seldom to be at all relied on; and, in- 
deed, every one must see, that, generally speaking, 
there must be a child cast off' for every one that is 
put to a hireling breast. Now, without supposing it 
possible, that the hireling will, in any case, contrive 
to get rid of her own child, every man who employs 
such hireling, must know, that he is exposing such 
child to destruction ; that he is assisting to rob it of 
the means of life; and, of course, assisting to pro- 
cure its death, as completely as a man can, in any 
case, assist in causing death by starvation ; a consi- 
deration which will make every just man in the 
world recoil at the thought of employing a hireling 
breast. For he is not to think of pacifying his con- 
science by saying, that he knows nothing about the 
hireling's child. He does know ; for he must know 7 
that she has a child, and that he is a principal in 
robbing it of the means of life. He does not cast it 
off and leave it to perish himself, but he causes the 
thing to be done ; and to all intents and purposes, he 
is a principal in the cruel and cowardly crime. 

233. And if an argument could possibly be yet 
wanting to the husband ; if his feelings were so stiff 
as still to remain unmoved, must not the wife be 
aware that whatever face the world may put upon it r 
however custom may seem to bear her out; must 
she not be aware that every one must see the main 
motive which induces her to banish from her arms 
that which has formed part of her own body ? All 
the pretences about her sore breasts and her want of 
strength are vain : nature says that she is to endure 
the pains as well as the pleasures : whoever has 
heard the bleating of the ewe for her lamb, and has 
seen her reconciled, or at least pacified, by having 
presented to her the skin or some of the blood of her 
dead lamb : whoever has witnessed the difficulty of 
inducing either ewe or cow to give her milk to an 
alien young one: whoever has seen the valour of the 



V.] TO A FATHER. 177 

timid hen in defending her brood, and has observed 
that she never swallows a morsel that is fit for her 
young, until they be amply satisfied : whoever has 
seen the wild birds, though, at other times, shunning 
even the distant approach of man, flying and scream- 
ing round his head, and exposing themselves to al- 
most certain death in defence of their nests : who- 
ever has seen these things, or any one of them must 
question the motive that can induce a mother to 
banish a child from her own breast to that of one 
who has already been so unnatural as to banish hers. 
And, in seeking for a motive sufficiently powerful to 
lead to such an act, women must excuse men, if they 
be not satisfied with the ordinary pretences ; they 
must excuse me, at any rate, if I do not stop even at 
love of ease and want of maternal affection, and if I 
express my fear, that, superadded to the unjustifiable 
motives, there is one which is calculated to excite 
disgust ; namely, a desire to be quickly freed from 
that restraint which the child imposes, and to hasten 
back, unbridled and undisfigured, to those enjoy- 
ments, to have an eagerness for which, or to wish to 
excite a desire for which, a really delicate woman 
will shudder at the thought of being suspected. 

234. I am well aware of the hostility that I have 
here been exciting; but there is another, and still 
more furious, bull to take by the horns, and which 
would have been encountered some pages back (that 
being the proper place), had I not hesitated between 
my duty and my desire to avoid giving offence ; I 
mean the employing of male-operators, on those 
occasions where females used to be employed. And 
here I have every thing- against rne ; the now general i 
custom, even amongst the most chaste and delicate 
women; the ridicule continually cast on old mid- 
wives ; the interest of a profession, for the members 
of which I entertain more respect and regard than 
for those of any other ; and, above all the rest, my 
own example to the contrary, and my knowledge that 
every husband has the same apology that I had. But 
because I acted wrong myself, it is not less, but ra- 



178 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ther more, my duty to endeavour to dissuade others 
from doing the same. My wife had suffered very 
severely with her second child, which, at last, was 
still-born. The next time I pleaded for the doctor; 
and, after every argument that i could think of, ob- 
tained a reluctant consent. Her life was so dear to 
me, that every thing else appeared as nothing. Every 
husband has the same apology to make ; and thus, 
from the good, and not from me bad, feelings of men, 
the practice has become far too general, for me to 
hope even to narrow it ; but, nevertheless, I cannot 
refrain from giving my opinion on the subject. 

235. We are apt to talk in a very unceremonious 
style of our rude ancestors, of their gross habits, 
their want of delicacy in their language. No man 
shall ever make me believe, that those who reared 
the cathedral of Ely (which I saw the other day,) 
were rude, either in their manners or in their minds 
and words. No man shall make me believe, that our 
ancestors were a rude and beggarly race, when I 
read in an act of parliament, passed in the reign of 
Edward the Fourth, regulating the dresses of the 
different ranks of the people, and forbidding the 
LABOURERS to wear coats of cloth that cost more 
than two shilling's a yard, (equal to forty shillings 
of our present money,) and forbidding their wives 
and daughters to wear sashes, or girdles, trimmed 
with gold or silver. No man shall make me believe 
that this was a rude and beggarly race, compared 
with those who now shirk and shiver about in can- 
vass frocks and rotten cottons. Nor shall any man 
persuade me that that was a rude and beggarly state 
of things, in which (reign of Edward the Third) an 
act was passed regulating the wages of labour, and 
ordering that a woman, for weeding in the carn> 
should receive a penny a day, while a quart of red 
wine was sold for a penny, and a pair of men's shoes, 
for two-pence. No man shall make me believe that 
agricidture was in a rude state, when an act like 
this was passed, or that our ancestors of that day 
were rude in their minds, or in their thoughts. In- 



V.] TO A FATHER. 179 

deed, there are a thousand proofs, that, whether in 
regard to domestic or foreign affairs, whether in re- 
gard to internal freedom and happiness, or to weight 
in the world, England was at her zenith about the 
reign of Edward the Third. The Reformation, as 
it is called, gave her a complete pull down. She 
revived again in the reigns of the Stuarts, as far as 
related to internal affairs ; but the " Glorious Revo- 
lution" and its debts and its taxes, have, amidst the 
false glare of new palaces, roads and canals, brought 
her down until she has become the land of domestic 
misery and of foreign impotence and contempt ; and, 
until she, amidst all her boasted improvements and 
refinements, tremblingly awaits her fall. 

236. However, to return from this digression, rude 
and unrefined as our mothers might be, plain and 
unvarnished as they might be in their language, ac- 
customed as they might be to call things by their 
names, though they were not so very delicate as to 
lise the word small-clothes ; and to be quite unable, 
in speaking of horn-cattle, horses, sheep, the canine 
race, and poultry, to designate them by their sexual 
appellations ; though they might not absolutely 
faint at hearing these appellations used by others ; 
rude and unrefined and indelicate as they might be, 
they did not suffer, in the cases alluded to, the ap- 
proaches of men, which approaches are unceremoni- 
ously suffered, and even sought, by their polished 
and refined and delicate daughters ; and of unmar- 
ried men too, in many cases ; and of very young 
men. 

237. From all antiquity this office was allotted to 
woman. Moses's life was saved by the humanity 
of the Egyptian midwife ; and to the employment 
of females in this memorable case, the world is pro- 
bably indebted for that which has been left it by 
that greatest of all law-givers, whose institutes, rude 
as they were, have been the foundation of all the 
wisest and most just laws in all the countries of Eu- 
rope and America. It was the fellow feeling- of the 
midwife for the poor mother that saved Moses. 



180 cobbett's advice .[Letter 

And none but a mother can, in such cases, feel to the 
full and effectual extent that which the operator 
ought to feel. She has been in the same state her- 
self; she knows more about the matter, except in 
cases of very rare occurrence, than any man, how- 
ever great his learning and experience, can ever 
know. She knows all the previous symptoms ; she 
can judge more correctly than man can judge in 
such a case ; she can put questions to the party, 
which a man cannot put ; the communication be- 
tween the two is wholly without reserve j the person 
of the one is given up to the other, as completely 
as her own is under her command. This never can 
be the case with a man-operator ; for, after all that 
can be said or done, the native feeling of women, in 
whatever rank of life, will, in these cases, restrain 
them from saying and doing, before a man, even be- 
fore a husband^ many things which they ought to 
say and do. So that, perhaps, even with regard to 
the bare question of comparative safety to life, the 
midwife is the preferable person. 

238. But safety to life is not ALL. The preserva- 
tion of life is not to be preferred to EVERY THING. 
Ought not a man to prefer death to the commission 
of treason against his country ? Ought not a man 
to die, rather than save his life by the prostitution of 
his wife to a tyrant, who insists upon the one or the 
other ? Every man and every woman will answer 
in the affirmative to both these questions. There 
are then, cases when people ought to submit to cer- 
tain death. Surely then, the mere chance, the mere 
possibility of it, ought not to outweigh the mighty 
considerations on the other side ; ought not to over- 
come that inborn modesty, that sacred reserve as to 
their persons, which, as I said before, is the charm 
of charms of the female sex, and which our mo- 
thers, rude as they were called by us, took, we may 
be satisfied, the best and most effectual means of 
preserving. 

239. But is there, after all, any thing real in this 
greater security for the life of either mother ol* 



V."] TO A FATHER. 181 

child ? If, then, risk were so great as to call upon 
women to overcome this natural repugnance to suf- 
fer the approaches of a man, that risk must be 
general ; it must apply to all women ; and, further, 
it must, ever since the creation of man, always 
have so applied. Now, resorting to the employ- 
ment of ?rce;z-operators has not been in vogue in 
Europe more than about seventy years, and has not 
been general in England more than about thirty or 
forty years. So that the risk in employing m«id- 
wives must, of late years, have become vastly great- 
er than it was even when I was a boy, or the whole 
race must have been extinguished long ago. And, 
then, how puzzled we should be to account for the 
building of all the cathedrals, and all the churches, 
and the draining of all the marshes, and all the fens, 
more than a thousand years before the word " ac- 
coucheur" ever came from the lips of woman, and, 
before the thought came into her mind ? And here, 
even in the use of this word, we have a specimen of 
the refined delicacy of the present age ; here we 
have, varnish the matter over how we may, modesty 
in the word and grossness in the thought. Farmers' 
wives, daughters, and maids, cannot now allude to, 
or hear named, without blushing, those affairs of 
the homestead, which they, within my memory, 
used to talk about as freely as of milking or spin- 
ning ; but have they become more really modest than 
their mothers were ? Has this refinement made 
them more continent than those rude mothers ? A 
jury at Westminster gave, about six years ago, da- 
mages to a man, calling himself a gentleman, 
against a farmer, because the latter, for the purpose 
for which such animals are kept, had a bull in his 
yard, on which the windows of the gentleman look- 
ed ! The plaintiff alleged, that this was so offensive 
to his wife and daughters, that, if the defendant were 
not compelled to desist, he should be obliged to 
brick up his windows, or to quit the house ! If I 
had been the father of these, at once, delicate and 
curious daughters. I would not have been the herald 
16 



182 cobbett*s advice [Letter 

of their purity of mind ; and if I had been the suitor 
of one of them, I would have taken care to give up the 
suit with all convenient speed ; for how could 1 rea- 
sonably have hoped ever to be able to prevail on deli- 
cacy, so exquisite, to commit itself to a pair of bridal 
sheets ? In spite, however, of all this " refinement 
in the human mind," which is everlastingly dinned 
in our ears ; in spite of the " small-clothes," and of 
all the other affected stuff, we have this conclusion, 
this indubitable proof of the falling off in real delica- 
cy ; namely, that common prostitutes, formerly un- 
known, now swarm in our towns, and are seldom 
wanting even in our villages ; and where there was 
one illegitimate child (including those coming be- 
fore the time) only fifty years ago, there are now 
twenty. 

240. And who can say how far the employment 
of men, in the cases alluded to, may have assisted in 
producing this change, so disgraceful to the present 
age, and so injurious to the female sex ? The pro- 
stitution and the swarms of illegitimate children 
have a natural and inevitable tendency to lessen that 
respect, and that kind and indulgent feeling, which 
is due from all men to virtuous women. It is well 
known that the unworthy members of any profes- 
sion, calling, or rank in life, cause, by their acts, the 
whole body to sink in the general esteem; it is well 
known that the habitual dishonesty of merchants 
trading abroad, the habitual profligate behaviour of 
travellers from home, the frequent proofs of abject 
submission to tyrants ; it is well known that these 
may give the character of dishonesty, profligacy, or 
cowardice, to a whole nation. There are, doubtless, 
many men in Switzerland, who abhor the infamous 
practices of men selling themselves, by whole regi- 
ments, to fight for any foreign state that will pay 
them, no matter in what cause, and no matter whe- 
ther against their own parents or brethren; but the 
censure falls upon the whole nation : and " no money, 
no Swiss," is a proverb throughout the world. It is, 
amidst those scenes of prostitution and bastardy, 



V.] TO A FATHER. 183 

impossible for men in general to respect the female 
sex to the degree that they formerly did ; while 
numbers will be apt to adopt the unjust sentiment of 
the old bachelor, Pope, that "every woman is, at 
" lieart, a rake." 

241. Who knows, I say, in what degree the em- 
ployment of men-operators may have tended to 
produce this change, so injurious to the female sex? 
Aye, and to encourage unfeeling and brutal men to 
propose that the dead bodies of females, if poor, 
should be sold for the purpose of exhibition and dis- 
section before an audience of men ; a proposition 
that our "rude ancestors" would have answered, not 
by words, but by blows ! Alas ! our women may 
talk of "small-clothes" as long as they please; they 
may blush to scarlet at hearing animals designated 
by their sexual appellations ; it may, to give the 
world a proof of our excessive modesty and delica- 
cy, even pass a law (indeed we have done it) to 
punish " an exposure of the person;" but as long as 
our streets swarm with prostitutes, our asylums and 
private houses with bastards ; as long as we have 
wan-operators in the delicate cases alluded to, and as 
long as the exhibiting of the dead body of a virtu- 
ous female before an audience of men shall not be 
punished by the law, and even with death; as long 
as we shall appear to be satisfied in this state of 
things, it becomes us, at any rate, to be silent about 
purity of mind, improvement of manners, and an 
increase of refinement and delicacy, 

242. This practice has brought the "doctor" into 
every family in the kingdom, which is of itself no 
small evil. I am not thinking of the expense ; for, 
in cases like these, nothing in that way ought to be 
spared, if necessary to the safety of his wife, a man 
ought not only to part with his last shilling, but to 
pledge his future labour. But we all know that 
there are imaginary ailments, many of which are 
absolutely created by the habit of talking with or 
about the " doctor." Read the " Domestic Medi- 
cine," and by the time that you have done, you will 



184 cobbett's advice [Letter 

imagine that you have, at times, all the diseases of 
which it treats. This practice has added to, has 
doubled, aye, has augmented, I verily believe, tenfold 
the number of the gentlemen who are, in common 
parlance, called " doctors ;" at which, indeed, I, oii 
my own private account, ought to rejoice ; for, in- 
variably I have, even in the worst of times, found 
them every where amongst my staunchest and kind- 
est friends. But though these gentlemen are not to 
blame for this, any more than attorneys are for their 
increase in number ; and amongst these gentlemen, 
too, I have, with very few exceptions, always found 
sensible men and zealous friends ; though the par- 
ties pursuing these professions are not to blame ; 
though the increase of attorneys has arisen from the 
endless number and the complexity of the laws, and 
from the tenfold mass of crimes caused by poverty 
arising from oppressive taxation ; and though the 
increase of " doctors" has arisen from the diseases 
and the imaginary ailments arising from that effe- 
minate luxury which has been created by the draw- 
ing of wealth from the many, and giving it to the 
few ; and, as the lower classes will always endeavour 
to imitate the higher, so the " accoucheur" has, along 
with the " small-clothes" descended from the loan- 
monger's palace down to the hovel of the pauper, 
there to take his fee out of the poor-rates ; though 
these parties are not to blame, the thing is not 
less an evil. Both professions have lost in cha- 
racter, in proportion to the increase in the number 
of its members ; peaches, if they grew on hedges, 
would rank but little above the berries of the bram- 
ble. 

243. But to return once more to the matter of risk 
of life ; can it be that nature has so ordered it, that, 
as a general thing, the life of either mother or child 
shall be in danger, even if there were no attendant 
at all ? Can this be ? Certainly it cannot : safety 
must be the rule, and danger the exception ; ~this 
must be the case, or the world never could have been 
peopled 3 and, perhaps, in ninety-nine cases out of 



*?.] TO A FATHER. 185 

every hundred, if nature were left wholly to herself, 
all would be right. The great doctor, in these cases, 
is, comforting, consoling, cheering up. And who 
can perform this office like women ? who have for 
these occasions a language and sentiments which 
seem to have been invented for the purpose ; and be 
they what they may as to general demeanour and 
character, they have all, upon these occasions, one 
common feeling, and that so amiable, so excellent, as 
to admit of no adequate description. They com- 
pletely forget, for the time, all rivalships, all squab- 
bles, all animosities, all Jiatred even ; every one feels 
as if it were her own particular concern. 

244. These, we may be well assured, are the pro- 
per attendants on these occasions ; the mother, the 
aunt, the sister, the cousin, and female neighbour ; 
these are the suitable attendants, having some expe- 
rienced woman to afford extraordinary aid, if such 
be necessary ; and in the few cases where the pre- 
servation, of life demands the surgeon's skill, he is 
always at hand. The contrary practice, which we 
got from the French, is not, however, so general in 
France as in England. We have outstripped all the 
world in this, as we have in every thing which pro- 
ceeds from luxury and effeminacy on the one hand, 
and from poverty on the other ; the millions have 
been stripped of their means to heap wealth on the 
thousands, and have been corrupted in manners, as 
well as in morals, by vicious examples set them by 
the possessors of that wealth. As reason says that 
the practice of which I complain cannot be cured 
without a total change in society, it would be pre- 
sumption in me to expect such cure from any efforts 
of mine. I therefore must content myself with 
hoping that such change will come, and with decla- 
ring, that if I had to live my life over again, I would 
act upon the opinions which I have thought it my 
bounclen duty here to state and endeavour to main- 
tain. 

245. Having gotten over these thorny places as 
quickly as possible, I gladly come back to the Ba- 

16* 



186 cobbett's advice [Letter 

bies ; with regard to whom I shall have no preju- 
dices, no affectation, no false pride, no sham fears to 
encounter ; every heart (except there be one made 
of flint) being with me here. " Then were there 
%t brought unto him little children, that he should put 
* his hands on them, and pray : and the disciples re- 
" buked them. But Jesus said, Suffer little children, 
" and forbid them not to come unto me ; for of such 
" is the kingdom of heaven." A figure most forcibly 
expressive of the character and beauty of innocence, 
and, at the same time, most aptly illustrative of the 
doctrine of regeneration. And where is the man ; the 
woman who is not fond of babies is not worthy the 
name ; but where is the wan who does not feel his 
heart softened ; who does not feel himself become 
gentler; who does not lose all the hardness of his 
temper ; when, in any way, for any purpose, or by 
any body, an appeal is made to him in behalf of 
these so helpless and so perfectly innocent little crea- 
tures ? 

246. Shakspeare, who is cried up as the great in- 
terpreter of the human hearty has said, that the man 
in whose soul there is no music, or love of music, 
is "fit for murders, treasons, stratagems, and spoils." 
" Our immortal bard." as the profligate Sheridan 
used to call him in public, while he laughed at him 
in private; our "immortal bard" seems to have for- 
gotten that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, were 
flung into the fiery furnace (made seven times hotter 
than usual) amidst the sound of the cornet, flute, 
harp, sackbut, and dulcimer, and all kinds of music; 
he seems to have forgotten that it was a music and a 
dance-loving damsel that chose, as a recompense for 
her elegant performance, the bloody head of John 
the Baptist, brought to her in a charger ; he seems 
to have forgotten that, while Rome burned, Nero 
fiddled : he did not know, perhaps, that cannibals al- 
ways dance and sing while their victims are roasting; 
but he might have known, and he must have known, 
that England's greatest tyrant, Henry VIII., had, as 
his agent in blood 3 Thomas Cromwell, expressed it, 



V.] TO A FATHER. 187 

"his sweet soul enwrapped in the celestial sounds of 
music;" and this was just at the time when the fero- 
cious tyrant was ordering Catholics and Protestants 
to be tied back to back on the same hurdle, dragged 
to Smithfield on that hurdle, and there tied to, and 
burnt from, the same stake. Shakspeare must have 
known these things, for he lived immediately after 
their date; and if he had lived in our day, he would 
have seen instances enough of " sweet souls" en- 
wrapped in the same manner, and capable, if not of 
deeds equally bloody, of others, discovering a total 
want of feeling for sufferings not unfrequently occa- 
sioned by their own wanton waste, and waste aris- 
ing, too, in part, from their taste for these " celestial 
sounds." 

247. no ! the heart of man is not to be known 
by this test : a great fondness for music is a mark of 
great weakness, great vacuity of mind : not of hard- 
ness of heart; not of vice ; not of downright folly; 
but of a want of capacity, or inclination, for sober 
thought. This is not always the case: accidental 
circumstances almost force the taste upon people : 
but, generally speaking, it is a preference of sound to 
sense. But the man, and especially the father, who 
is not fond of babies; who does not feel his heart 
softened when he touches their almost boneless limbs; 
when he sees their little eyes first begin to discern ; 
when he hears their tender accents ; the man whose 
heart does not beat truly to this test, is, to say the 
best of him, an object of compassion. 

248. But the mother's feelings are here to be 
thought of too ; for, of all gratifications, the very 
greatest that a mother can receive, is notice taken of, 
and praise bestowed on, her baby. The moment that 
gets into her arms, every thing else diminishes in 
value, the father only excepted. Her own personal 
cJiarms notwithstanding all that men say and have 
written on the subject, become, at most, a secondary 
object as soon as the baby arrives. A saying of the 
old, profligate King of Prussia is frequently quoted 
in proof of the truth of the maxim, that a woman 



188 cobbett's advice [Letter 

will forgive any thing but calling' her ugly ; a very 
true maxim, perhaps, as applied to prostitutes, whe- 
ther in high or low life ; but a pretty long life of ob- 
servation has told me, that a mother, worthy of the 
name, will care little about what you say of her per- 
son, so that you will but extol the beauty of her ba- 
by. Her baby is always the very prettiest that ever 
was born ! It is always an eighth wonder of the 
world ! And thus it ought to be, or there would be 
a want of that wondrous attachment to it which is 
necessary to bear her up through all those cares and 
pains and toils inseparable from the preservation of 
its life and health. 

249. It is, however, of the part which the husband 
has to act, in participating in these cares and toils, 
that I am now to speak. Let no man imagine that 
the world will despise him for helping to take care 
of his own child : thoughtless fools may attempt to 
ridicule ; the unfeeling few may join in the attempt ; 
but all, whose good opinion is worthy having, will 
applaud his conduct, and will, in many cases, be dis- 
posed to repose confidence in him on that very ac- 
count. To say of a man, that he is fond of his family, 
is, of itself, to say that, in private life at least, he is 
a good and trust-worthy man ; aye, and in public 
life too, pretty much ; for it is no easy matter to se- 
parate the two characters ; and it is naturally con- 
cluded, that he who has been flagrantly wanting in 
feelirrg for his own flesh and blood, will not be very 
sensitive towards the rest of mankind. There is no- 
thing more amiable, nothing more delightful to be- 
hold, than a young man especially taking part in the 
work of nursing the children ; and how often have 
I admired this in the labouring men in Hampshire ! 
It is, indeed, generally the same all over England ; 
and as to America, it would be deemed brutal for a 
man not to take his full share of these cares and la- 
bours. 

250. The man who is to gain a living by his la- 
bour, must be drawn away from home, or, at least, 
from the cradle-side, in order to perform that labour ; 



V.] TO A FATHER. 189 

but this will not, if he be made of good stuff, prevent 
him from doing his share of the duty due to his chil- 
dren. There are still many hours in the twenty-four, 
that he will have to spare for this duty ; and there 
ought to be no toils, no watchings, no breaking of 
rest, imposed by this duty, of which he ought not to 
perform his full share, and that, too, without grudg- 
ing. This is strictly due from him in payment for 
the pleasures of the marriage state. What right has 
he to the sole possession of a woma7i*s person ; what 
right to a husband's vast authority ; what right to- the 
honourable title and the boundless power of father : 
what right has he to all, or any of these, unless he 
can found his claim on the faithful performance of 
all the duties which these titles imply? 

251. One great source of the unhappiness amongst 
mankind arises, however, from a neglect of these du- 
ties;' but, as if by way of compensation for their 
privations, they are much more duly performed by 
the poor than by the rich. The fashion of the la- 
bouring people is this : the husband, when free from 
his toil in the fields, takes his share in the nursing, 
which he manifestly looks upon as a sort of reward 
for his labour. However distant from his cottage, 
his heart is always at that home towards which he is 
carried, at night, by limbs that feel not their weari- 
ness, being urged on by a heart anticipating the wel- 
come of those who attend him there. Those who have, 
as I so many hundreds of times have, seen the la- 
bourers in the woodland parts of Hampshire and 
Sussex, coming, at night-fall, towards their cottage- 
wickets, laden with fuel for a day or two ; whoever 
has seen three or four little creatures looking out for 
the father's approach, running in to announce the 
glad tidings, and then scampering out to meet him, 
clinging round his knees, or hanging on his skirts ; 
whoever has witnessed scenes like this, to witness 
which has formed one of the greatest delights of my 
life, will hesitate long before he prefer a life of ease 
to a life of labour ; before he prefer a communica- 
tion with children intercepted by servants and teach- 



190 cobbett's advice [Letter 

ers to that communication which is here direct, and 
which admits not of any division of affection. 

252. Then comes the Sunday ; and, amongst all 
those who keep no servants, a great deal depends on 
the manner in which the father employs that day. 
When there are two or three children, or even one 
child, the first thing, after the breakfast (which is 
late on this day of rest) is to wash and dress the 
child or children. Then, while the mother is dress- 
ing the dinner, the father, being in the Sunday- 
clothes himself, takes care of the child or children. 
When dinner is over, the mother puts on her best ; 
and then all go to church, or, if that cannot be, 
whether from distance or other cause, all pass the 
afternoon together. This used to be the way of 
life amongst the labouring people ; and from this 
way of life arose the most able and most moral peo- 
ple that the world ever saw, until grinding taxation 
took from them the means of obtaining a sufficiency 
of food and raiment ; plunged the whole, good and 
bad, into one indiscriminate mass, under the degra- 
ding and hateful name of paupers. 

253. The working man, in whatever line, and 
whether in town or country, who spends his day of 
rest, or any part of it, except in case of absolute 
necessity, away from his wife and children, is not 
worthy of the name of father, and is seldom wor- 
thy of the trust of any employer. Such absence 
argues a want of fatherly and of conjugal affection, 
which want is generally duly repaid by a similar 
want in the neglected parties ; and, though stern 
authority may command and enforce obedience for a 
while, the time soon comes when it will be set at 
defiance ; and when such a father, having no exam- 
ple, no proofs of love, to plead, complains of filial 
ingratitude, the silent indifference of his neighbours, 
and which is more poignant, his own heart, will tell 
him that his complaint is unjust. 

254. Thus far with regard to working people; 
but much more necessary is it to inculcate these 
principles in the minds of young men in the middle 



V.I TO A FATHER. 191 

rank oflife, and to be more particular, in their case, 
with regard to the care due to very young children, 
for here servants come in ; and many are but too 
prone to think, that when they have handed their 
children over to well-paid and able servants, they 
have done their duty by them, than which there can 
hardly be a more mischievous error. The children 
of the poorer people are, in general, much fonder of 
their parents than those of the rich are of theirs ; 
this fondness is reciprocal ; and the cause is, that 
the children of the former have, from their very 
birth, had a greater share than those of the latter — 
of the personal attention, and of the never-ceasing 
endearments of their parents. 

255. I have before urged upon young married 
men, in the middle walks of life, to keep the servants 
out of the house as long as possible ; and when they 
must come at last, when they must be had even to 
assist in taking care of children, let them be assist- 
ants in the most strict sense of the word ; let them 
not be confided in : let children never be left to them 
alone ; and the younger the child, the more necessa- 
ry a rigid adherence to this rule. I shall be told, 
perhaps, by some careless father, or some play- 
haunting mother, that female servants are women, 
and have the tender feelings of women. Very true ; 
and, in general, as good and kind in their nature as 
the mother herself. But they are not the mothers 
of your children, and it is not in nature that they 
should have the care and anxiety adequate to the 
necessity of the case. Out of the immediate care 
and personal superintendence of one or the other of 
the parents, or of some trusty relation^ no young 
child ought to be suffered to be, if there be, at what- 
ever sacrifice of ease or of property, any possibility 
of preventing it ; because, to insure, if possible, the 
perfect form, the straight limbs, the sound body, and 
the sane mind of your children, is the very first of 
all your duties. To provide fortunes for them ; to 
make provision for their future fame ; to give them 
the learning necessary to the calling for which you 



192 cobbett's advice [Letter 

destine them : all these may be duties, and the last 
is a duty ; but a duty far greater than, and prior to, 
all these, is the duty of neglecting nothing within 
your power to insure them &sane mind in a sound 
and undeformed body. And, good God ! how many 
are the instances of deformed bodies, of crooked 
limbs, of idiocy, or of deplorable imbecility, pro- 
ceeding solely from young children being left to the 
care of servants. ! One would imagine, that one 
single sight of this kind to be seen, or heard of, in a 
whole nation, would be sufficient to deter parents 
from the practice. And what, then, must those pa- 
rents feel, who have brought this life-long sorrowing 
on themselves ! When once the thing is done, to 
repent is unavailing. And what is now the worth of 
all the ease and all the pleasures, to enjoy which 
the poor sufferer was abandoned to the care of ser- 
vants ! 

256. What ! can I plead example, then, in support 
of this rigid precept ? Did we, who have bred up a 
family of children, and have had servants during 
the greater part of the time, never leave a young 
child to the care of servants ? Never ; no, not for 
one single hour. Were we, then, tied constantly to 
the house with them ? No ; for we sometimes 
took them out; but one or the other of us was al- 
ways with them,, until, in succession, they were able 
to take good care of themselves ; or until the elder 
ones were able to take care of the younger, and 
then they sometimes stood sentinel in our stead. 
How could we visit then ? Why, if both went, we 
bargained beforehand to take the children with us ; 
and if this were a thing not to be proposed, one of 
us went, and the other staid at home, the latter be- 
in g very frequently my lot. From this we never once 
deviated. We cast aside all consideration of conve- 
nience ; all calculations of expense ; all thoughts of 
pleasure of every sort. And, what could have 
equalled the reward that we have received for our 
care and for our unshaken resolution in this re- 
spect ? 



V.] TO A FATHER. 193 

257. In the rearing of children, there is resplution 
wanting as well as tenderness. That parent is not 
truly affectionate who wants the courage to do that 
which is sure to give the child temporary pain. A 
great deal, in providing for the health and strength 
of children, depends upon their being duly and daily 
washed, when well, in cold water from head to foot. 
Their cries testify to what a degree they dislike this. 
They squall and kick and twist about at a fine rate ; 
and many mothers, too many, neglect this, partly from 
reluctance to encounter the squalling, and partly, and 
much too often, from what I will not call idleness^ 
but to which I cannot apply a milder term than neg- 
lect Well and duly performed, it is an hour's good 
tight work ; for, besides the bodily labour, which is 
not very slight when the child gets to be five or six 
months old, there is the singing to overpower the 
voice of the child. The moment the stripping of the 
child used to begin, the singing used to begin, and 
the latter never ceased till the former had ceased. 
After having heard this go on with all my children, 
Rousseau taught me the philosophy of it. I happen- 
ed, by accident, to look into his Emile, and there I 
found him saying, that the nurse subdued the voice 
of the child and made it quiet, by drowning its voice 
in hers, and thereby making it perceive that it could 
not be heard, and that to continue to cry was of no 
avail. " Here, Nancy," said I, (going to her with 
the book in my hand,) " you have been a great phi- 
" losopher all your life, without either of us know- 
" ing it." A silent nurse is a poor soul. It is a great 
disadvantage to the child, if the mother be of a very 
silent, placid, quiet turn. The singing, the talking 
to, the tossing and rolling about, that mothers in 
general practise, are very beneficial to the children : 
they give them exercise, awaken their attention, an- 
imate them, and rouse them to action. It is very 
bad to have a child even carried about by a dull, in- 
animate, silent servant, who will never talk, sing or 
chirrup to it ; who will but just carry it about, al- 
ways kept in the same attitude, and seeing and hear- 
17 



1S4 cobbett's advicb [Letter 

ing nothing to give it life and spirit. It requires no- 
thing "but a dull creature like this, and the washing 
and dressing left to her, to give a child the rickets, 
and make it, instead of being a strong straight 

Eerson, tup-shinned, bow-kneed, or hump-backed ; 
esides other ailments not visible to the eye. By- 
and-by, when the deformity begins to appear, the 
doctor is called in, but it is too late : the mischief is 
done ; and a few months of neglect are punished by 
a life of mortification and sorrow, not wholly unac- 
companied with shame. 

258. It is, therefore, a very spurious kind of ten- 
derness that prevents a mother from doing the things 
which, though disagreeable to the child, are so ne- 
cessary to its lasting well-being. The washing daily 
in the morning is a great thing ; cold water winter 
or summer, and this never left to a servant, who has 
not, in such a case, either the patience or the cour- 
age that is necessary for the task. When the wash- 
ing is over, and the child dressed in its day-clothes, 
how gay and cheerful it looks I The exercise gives 
it appetite, and then disposes it to rest: and it sucks 
and sleeps and grows, the delight of all eyes, and 
particularly those of the parents. " I can't bear 
that squalling /" I have heard men say ; and to 
which I answer, that "I can't bear such men!" 
There are, I thank God, very few of them ; for, if 
they do not always reason about the matter honest 
nature teaches them to be considerate and indulgent 
towards little creatures so innocent and so helpless 
and so unconscious of what they do. And the 
noise : after all, why should it disturb a man % He 
knows the exact cause of it : he knows that it is the 
unavoidable consequence of a great good to his 
child, and of course to him : it lasts but an hour, and 
the recompense instantly comes in the looks of the 
rosy child, and in the new hopes which every look 
excites. It never disturbed me, and my occupation 
was one of those most liable to disturbance by noise. 
Many a score of papers have I written amidst the 
noise of children, and in my whole life never bade 



V.J TO A FATHER, 195 

them be still. When they grew up to be big enough 
to gallop about the house, i have, in wet weather, 
when they could not go out, written the whole day 
amidst noise that would have made some authors 
half mad. It never annoyed me at all. But a Scotch 
piper, whom an old lady, who lived beside us at 
Brompton, used to pay to come and play a long tune 
every day, I was obliged to bribe into a breach of 
contract. That which you are pleased with, how- 
ever noisy, does not disturb you. That which is 
indifferent to you has not more effect. The rattle of 
coaches, the clapper of a mill, the fall of water, leave 
your mind undisturbed. But the sound of the pipe, 
awakening the idea of a lazy life of the piper, better 
paid than the labouring man, drew the mind aside 
from its pursuit ; and, as it really was a nuisance, oc- 
casioned by the money of my neighbour, I thought 
myself justified in abating it by the same sort of 
means. 

259. The cradle is in poor families necessary ; be- 
cause necessity compels the mother to get as much 
time as she can for her work, and a child can rock 
the cradle. At first we had a crad]e ; and I rocked 
the cradle, in great part, during the time that I was 
writing my first work, that famous Maitre d'An- 
glois, which has long been the first book in Europe, 
as well as in America, for teaching of French peo- 
ple the English language. But we left off the use 
of the cradle as soon as possible. It causes sleep 
more, and oftener, than necessary: it saves trouble; 
but to take trouble was our duty. After the second 
child, we had no cradle, however difficult at first to 
do without it. When I was not at my business, it 
was generally my affair to put the child to sleep : 
sometimes by sitting with it in my arms, and some- 
times by lying down on a bed with it, till it fell 
asleep. We soon found the good of this method. 
The children did not sleep so much, but they slept 
more soundly. The cradle produces a sort of dos- 
ing, or dreaming sleep. This is a matter of great 
importance, as every thing must be that has any in- 



196 cobeett's advice [Letter 

fluence on the health of children. The poor must 
use the cradle, at least until they have other children 
big enough to hold the baby, and to put it to sleep ; 
and it is truly wonderful at how early an age they, 
either girls or boys, will do this business faithfully 
and well. You see them in the lanes, and on the 
skirts of woods and commons, lugging a baby about, 
when it sometimes weighs half as much as the nurse. 
The poor mother is frequently compelled, in order 
to help to get bread for her children, to go to a dis- 
tance from home, and leave the group, baby and all, 
to take care of the house and of themselves, the eld- 
est of four or five, not, perhaps, above six or seven 
years old ; and it is quite surprising, that, consider- 
ing the millions of instances in which this is done 
in England, in the course of a year, so ver}^ very 
few accidents or injuries arise from the practice ; 
and not a hundredth part so many as arise in the 
comparatively few instances in which children are 
left to the care of servants. In summer time you 
see these little groups rolling about up the green, or 
amongst the heath, not far from the cottage, and at 
a mile, perhaps, from any other dwelling, the dog 
their only protector. And what fine and straight 
and healthy and fearless and acute persons they be- 
come ! It used to be remarked in Philadelphia, when 
I lived there, that there was not a single man of any 
eminence, whether doctor, lawyer, merchant, trader, 
or any thing else, that had not been born and bred 
in the country, and of parents in a low state of life. 
Examine London, and you will find it much about 
the same. From this very childhood they are from 
necessity entrusted with the care of something valu- 
able. They practically learn to think, and to calcu- 
late as to consequences. They are thus taught to 
remember things ; and it is quite surprising what 
memories they have, and how scrupulously a little 
carter-boy will deliver half-a-dozen messages, each 
of a different purport from the rest, to as many per- 
sons, all the messages committed to him at one and 
the same time, and he not knowing one letter of the 



V.] TO A FATHER. 197 

alphabet from another. When I want to remember 
something, and am out in the field, and cannot write 
it down, I say to one of the men, or boys, come to 
me at such a time, and tell me so and so. He is sure 
to do it ; and I therefore look upon the memoran- 
dum, as written down. One of these children, boy 
or girl, is much more worthy of being entrusted 
with the care of a baby, any body's baby, than a 
servant-maid with curled locks and with eyes rolling 
about for admirers. The locks and the rolling eyes, 
very nice, and, for aught I know, very proper things 
in themselves; but incompatible with the care of 
your baby, Ma'am ; her mind being absorbed in con- 
templating the interesting circumstances which are 
to precede her having a sweet baby of her own; and 
a sweeter than yours, if you please, Ma'am ; or, at 
least, such will be her anticipations. And this is all 
right enough ; it is natural that she should think and 
feel thus; and knowing this, you are admonished 
that it is your bounden duty not to delegate this sa- 
cred trust to any body. 

260. The courage, of which I have spoken, so 
necessary in the case of washing the children in 
spite of their screaming remonstrances, is, if possi- 
ble, more necessary in cases of illness, requiring the 
application of medicine, or of surgical means of 
cure. Here the heart is put to the test indeed! Here 
is anguish to be endured by a mother, who has to 
force down the nauseous physic, or to apply the 
tormenting plaster ! Yet it is the mother, or the 
father, and more properly the former, who is to per- 
form this duty of exquisite pain. To no nurse, to 
no hireling, to no alien hand, ought, if possible to 
avoid it, this task to be committed. I do not admire 
those mothers who are too tender-hearted to inflict 
this pain on their children, and who, therefore, leave 
it to be inflicted by others. Give me the mother who, 
while the tears stream down her face, has the reso- 
lution scrupulously to execute, with her own hands, 
the doctor's commands. Will a servant, will any 
hireling, do this ? Committed to such hands, the 
17* 



198 cobbett's advice [Letter 

least trouble will be preferred to the greater : the 
thing will, in general, not be half done ; and if done, 
the suffering from such hands is far greater in the 
mind of the child than if it came from the hands of 
the mother. In this case, above all others, there 
ought to be no delegation of the parental office. 
Here life or limb is at stake : and the parent, man 
or woman, who, in any one point, can neglect his or 
her duty here, is unworthy of the name of parent. 
And here, as in all the other instances, where good- 
ness in the parents towards the children give such 
weight to their advice when the children grow up, 
what a motive to filial gratitude ! The children who 
are old enough to observe and remember, will wit- 
ness this proof of love and self-devotion in their 
mother. Each of them feels that she has done the 
same towards them all ; and they love her and ad- 
mire and revere her accordingly. 

261. This is the place to state my opinions, and 
the result of ray experience, with regard to that 
fearful disease the Small-Pox ; a subject, too, to 
which I have paid great attention. I was always, 
from the very first mention of the thing, opposed 
to the Cow-Pox scheme. If efficacious in prevent- 
ing the Small Pox, I objected to it merely on the 
score of its beastliness. There are some things, 
surely, more hideous than death, and more resolute- 
ly to be avoided ; at any rate, more to be avoided 
than the mere risk of suffering death. And, amongst 
other things, I always reckoned that of a parent 
causing the blood, and the diseased blood too, of a 
beast to be put into the veins of human beings, and 
those beings the children of that parent. I, there- 
fore, as will be seen in the pages of the Register of 
that day, most strenuously opposed the giving of 
twenty thousand pounds to Jenner out of the taxes, 
paid in great part by the working people, which I 
deemed and asserted to be a scandalous waste of the 
public money. 

262. I contended, that this beastly application 
could notj in nature, be efficacious in 'preventing' the 



V.J TO A FATHER. 199 

Small- P ox ; and that, even if efficacious for that 
purpose, it was wholly unnecessary. The truth of 
the former of these assertions has now been proved 
in thousands upon thousands of instances. For a 
long time, for ten years, the contrary was boldly and 
brazenly asserted. This nation is fond of quackery 
of all sorts ; and this particular quackery having 
been sanctioned by King, Lords and Commons, it 
spread over the country like a pestilence borne by 
the winds. Speedily sprang up the " ROYAL Jen- 
nerian Institution" and Branch Institutions, issuing 
from the parent trunk, set instantly to work, im- 
pregnating the veins of the rising and enlightened 
generation with the beastly matter. " Gentlemen 
and Ladies" made the commodity a pocket-compa- 
nion ; and if a cottager's child (in Hampshire at 
least,) even seen by them, on a common, were not 
pretty quick in taking to its heels, it had to carry off 
more or less of the disease of the cow. One would 
have thought, that one-half of the cows in England 
must have been tapped to get at such a quantity of 
the stuff. 

263. In the midst of all this mad work, to which 
the doctors, after having found it in vain to resist, 
had yielded, the real small-pox, in its worst form 3 
broke out in the town of Ringwood, in Hampshire, 
and carried off, I believe (I have not the account at 
hand,) more than a hundred persqns, young and old, 
every one of whom had had the cow-pox " so nicely /" 
And what was now said ? Was the quackery ex- 
ploded, and were the granters of the twenty thou- 
sand pounds ashamed of what they had done ? Not 
at all : the failure was imputed to unskilful opera- 
tors ; to the stateness of the matter: to its not being 
of the genuine quality. Admitting all this, the 
scheme stood condemned; for the great advantages 
held forth were, that any body might perform the 
operation, and that the matter was every where abun- 
dant and cost-free. But these were paltry excuses ; 
the mere shuffles of quackery ; for what do we know 
now 1 Why, that in hundreds of instances, persons 



200 cobbett's advice [Letter 

cow poxed by TENNER HIMSELF, have taken the 
real small pox afterwards, and have either died from 
the disorder, or narrowly escaped with their lives ! 
I will mention two instances, the parties concerned 
being living and well-known, one of them to the 
whole nation, and the other to a very numerous cir- 
cle in the higher walks of life. The first is Sir 
Richard Phillips, so well known by his able wri- 
tings, and equally well known by his exemplary 
conduct as Sheriff of London, and by his life-long 
labours in the cause of real charity and humanity. 
Sir Richard had, I think, two sons, whose veins 
were impregnated by the grantee himself. At any 
rate he had one, who had, several years after Jenner 
had given him the insuring matter, a very hard 
struggle for his life, under the hands of the good, 
old-fashioned, seam-giving, and dimple-dipping small 
pox. The second is Philip Codd, Esq., formerly of 
Kensington, and now of Rumsted Court, near Maid- 
stone, in Kent, who had a son that had a very nar- 
row escape under the real small-pox, about four 
years ago, and who also had been cow-poxed by Jen- 
ner himself. The last-mentioned gentleman I have 
known, and most sincerely respected, from the time 
of our both being about eighteen years of age. When 
the young gentleman, of whom I am now speaking, 
was very young, I having him upon my knee one 
day, asked his kind and excellent mother, whether 
he had been inoculated. "Oh, no!" said she, "we 
are going to have him vaccinated." Whereupon I, 
going into the garden to the father, said, " I do hope, 
Codd, that you are not going to have that beastly 
cow-stuff put into that fine boy." " Why," said he, 

"you see, Cobbett, it is to be done by Jenner him- 
self." What answer I gave, what names and epi- 

hets I bestowed upon Jenner and his quackery, I 
will leave the reader to imagine. 

264. Now, here are instances enough; but, every 
reader has heard of, if not seen, scores of others. 
Young Mr. Codd caught the smallpox at a school ; 

and if I recollect rightly, there were several other 



V.J TO A FATHER. 201 

" vaccinated" youths who did the same, at the same 
time. Quackery, however, has always a shuffle left. 
Now that the cow-pox has been proved to be no 
guarantee against the small-pox, it makes it " wilder" 
when it comes ! A pretty shuffle, indeed, this ! You 
are to be all your life in fear of it, having as your 
sole consolation, that when it comes (and it may 
overtake you in a camp, or on the seas), it will be 
"milder!" It was not too mild to kill at Ringwood, 
and its mildness, in the case of young Mr. Cod'd, 
did not restrain it from blinding' Mm for a suitable 
number of days. I shall not easily forget the alarm 
and anxiety of the father and mother upon this oc- 
casion ; both of them the best of parents, and both 
of them now punished for having yielded to this 
fashionable quackery. I will not say, justly punish- 
ed ; for affection for their children, in which respect 
they were never surpassed by any parents on earth, 
was the cause of their listening to the danger-obvia- 
ting quackery. This, too, is the case with other pa- 
rents ; but parents should be under the influence of 
reason and experience, as well as under that of af- 
fection ; and now, at any rate, they ought to set this 
really dangerous quackery at nought. 

265. And, what does my own experience say on 
the other side? There are my seven children, the 
sons as tall, or nearly so, as their father, and the 
daughters as tall as their mother; all, in due succes- 
sion, inoculated with the good old-fashioned face- 
tearing small-pox; neither of them with a single 
mark of that disease on their skins ; neither of them 
having been, that we could perceive, ill for a single 
hour, in consequence of the inoculation. When we 
were in the United States, we observed that the 
Americans were never marked with the small-pox; 
or, if such a thing were seen, it was very rarely. The 
cause we found to be, the universal practice of having 
the children inoculated at the breast, and, generally, 
at a month or six weeks old. When we came to have 
children, we did the same. I believe that some of 
ours have been a few months old when the operation 



202 cobbett's advice [Letter 

has been performed, but always while at the breast, 
and as early as possible after the expiration of six 
wee'.ts from the birth; sometimes put off a little 
while by some slight disorder in the child, or on ac- 
count of some circumstance or other; but, with 
these exceptions, done at, or before, the end of six 
weeks from the birth, and always at the breast. All is 
then pure: there is nothing in either body or mind 
to favour the natural fury of the disease. We always 
took particular care about the source from which the 
infectious matter came. We employed medical men, 
in whom we could place perfect confidence: we had 
their solemn word for the matter coming from some 
healthy child ; and, at last, we had sometimes to wait 
for this, the cow-affair having rendered patients of 
this sort rather rare. 

285. While the child has the small-pox, the mo- 
ther should abstain from food and drink, which she 
may require at other times, but which might be too 
gross just now. To suckle a hearty child requires 
good living ; for, besides that this is necessary to the 
mottfer, it is also necessary to the child. A little for- 
bearance, just at this time, is prudent; making the 
diet as simple as possible, and avoiding all violent 
agitation either of the body or the spirits; avoiding 
too, if you can, very hot or very cold weather. 

287. There is now, however, this inconvenience, 
that the far greater part of the present young women 
have been be-Jennered; so that they may catch the 
beauty-killing disease from their babies ! To hear- 
ten them up, however, and more especially, I confess, 
to record a trait of maternal affection and of female 
heroism, which I have never heard of any thing to 
surpass, I have the pride to say, that my wife had 
eight children inoculated at her breast, and never had 
the small-pox in her life. I, at first, objected to \he 
inocuhting of the child, but she insisted upon it, and 
with so much pertinacity that I gave way, on condi- 
tion that she would be inoculated too. This was done 
with three or four of the children, I think, she always 
being reluctant to have it done, saying that it looked 



V.] TO A FATHER. 203 

like distrusting the goodness of God. There was, 
to be sure, very little in this argument; but the long 
experience wore away the alarm; and there she is 
now, having had eight children hanging at her breast 
with that desolating disease in them, and she never 
having been affected by it from first to last. All her 
children know, of course, the risk that she volunta- 
rily incurred for them. They all have this indubi- 
table proof, that she valued their lives above her own; 
and is it in nature, that they should ever wilfully do 
any thing to wound the heart of that mother ; and 
must not her bright example have great effect on 
their character and conduct ! Now, my opinion is, 
that the far greater part of English or American wo- 
men, if placed in the above circumstances, would do 
just the same thing ; and I do hope, that those, who 
have yet to be mothers, will seriously think of put- 
ting an end, as they have the power to do, to the dis- 
graceful and dangerous quackery, the evils of which 
I have so fully proved. 

268. But there is, in the management of babies, 
something besides life, health, strength and beauty ; 
and something too, without which all these put to- 
gether are nothing worth ; and that is sanity of mind. 
There are, owing to various causes, some who are 
born ideots; but a great many more become insane 
from the misconduct, or neglect, of parents ; and, 
generally, from the children being committed to the 
care of savants. I knew, in Pennsylvania, a child, 
as fine, and as sprightly, and as intelligent a child as 
ever was born, made an ideot for life by being, when 
about three years old, shut into a dark closet, by a 
maid servant, in order to terrify it into silence. The 
thoughtless creature first menaced it with sending it 
to " the bad place," as the phrase is there ; and, at 
last, to reduce it to silence, put it into the closet, 
shut the door, and went out of the room. She went 
back, in a few minutes, and found the child in a fit. 
It recovered from that, but was for life an ideot. 
When the parents, who had been out two days and 
two nights on a visit of pleasure, came home, they 



204 cobeett's advice [Letter 

were told that the child had had a Jit; but, they 
were not told the cause. The girl, however, who 
was a neighbour's daughter, being on her death-bed 
about ten years afterwards, could not die in peace 
without sending for the mother of the child (now be- 
come a young man) and asking forgiveness of her. 
The mother herself was, however, the greatest of- 
fender of the two: a whole lifetime of sorrow and 
of mortification was a punishment too light for her 
and her husband. Thousands upon thousands of 
human beings have been deprived of their senses by 
these and similar means. 

269. It is not long since that we read, in the news- 
papers, of a child being absolutely killed, at Birming- 
ham, I think it was, by being thus frightened. The 
parents had gone out into what is called an evening 
party. The servants, naturally enough, had their 
party at home ; and the mistress, who, by some un- 
expected accident, had been brought home at an 
early hour, finding the parlour full of company, ran 
up stairs to see about her child, about two or three 
years old. She found it with its eyes open, but fixed; 
touching it, she found it inanimate. The doctor was 
sent for in vain : it was quite dead. The maid af- 
fected to know nothing of the cause; but some one 
of the parties assembled discovered, pinned up to 
the curtains of the bed, a horrid figure, made up 
partly of a frightful mask ! This, as the wretched 
girl confessed, had been done to keep the child quiet 
while she was with her company below. When one 
reflects on the anguish that the poor little thing must 
have endured, before the life was quite frightened 
out of it, one can find no terms sufficiently strong to 
express the abhorrence due to the perpetrator of this 
crime, which was, in fact, a cruel murder ; and, if it 
was beyond the reach of the law, it was so and is so, 
because, as in the cases of parricide, the law r , in 
making no provision for punishment peculiarly se- 
vere, has, out of respect to human nature, supposed 
such crimes to be impossible. But if the girl was 
criminal ; if death, or a life of remorse, was her due, 



V.] TO A FATHER. 205 

what was the due of her parents, and especially of 
the mother ! And what was the due of the father, 
who suffered that mother, and who, perhaps, tempt- 
ed her to neglect her most sacred duty ! 

270. If tins poor child had been deprived of its 
mental faculties, instead of being deprived of its life, 
the cause would, in all likelihood, never have been 
discovered. The insanity would have been ascribed 
to " brain-fever," or to some other of the usual 
causes of insanity ; or, as in thousands upon thou- 
sands of instances, to some unaccountable cause. 
When I was, in Letter V., paragraphs from 227 to 
233, both inclusive, maintaining with all my might, 
the unalienable right of the child to the milk of its 
mother, I omitted, amongst the evils arising from 
banishing the child from the mother's breast, to men- 
tion, or, rather, it had never occurred to me to men- 
tion, the loss of reason to the poor, innocent crea- 
tures, thus banished. And now, as connected with 
this measure, I have an argument of experience, 
enough to terrify every young man and woman up- 
on earth from the thought of committing this offence 
against nature. I wrote No. IX. at Cambridge, on 
Sunday, the 28th of March ; and, before I quitted 
Shrewsbury, on the 14th of May, the following 
facts reached my ears. A very respectable trades- 
man, who, with his wife, have led a most industrious 
life, in a town that it is not necessary to name, said 
to a gentleman that told it to me : "I wish to God I 
" had read No. IX. of Mr. Cobbett's Advice to Young 
"Men fifteen years ago!" He then related, that he 
had had ten children, all put out to be suckled., in con- 
sequence of the necessity of his having the mo- 
ther's assistance to carry on his business ; and that 
two oat of the ten had come home ideots; though the 
rest were all sane, and though insanity had never 
been known in the family of either father or mother! 
These parents, whom I myself saw, are very clever 
people, and the wife singularly industrious and ex- 
pert in her affairs. 

271. Now the motive, in this case, unquestionably 

18 



206 cobbett's advice [Letter 

was good ; it was that the mother's valuable time 
might, as much as possible, be devoted to the earn- 
ing of a competence for her children. But, alas! 
what is this competence to these two unfortunate be- 
ings ! And what is the competence to the rest, when 
put in the scale against the mortification that they 
must, all their lives, suffer on account of the insani- 
ty of their brother and sister, exciting, as it must, 
in ail their circle, and even in themselves, suspicions 
of their own perfect soundness of mind ! When 
weighed against this consideration, what is all the 
wealth in the world ! And as to the parents, where 
are they to find compensation for such a calamity, 
embittered additionally, too, by the reflection, that it 
was in their power to prevent it, and that nature, 
with loud voice, cried out to them to prevent it ! 
Money ! Wealth acquired in consequence of this 
banishment of these poor children ; these victims of 
this, I will not call it avarice, but over-eager love of 
gain ! wealth thus acquired ! What wealth can con- 
sole these parents for the loss of reason in these 
children ! Where is the father and the mother, who 
would not rather see their children ploughing in 
other men's fields, and sweeping other men's houses, 
than led about parks or houses of their own, objects 
of pity even of the menials procured by their 
wealth ? 

272. If what I have now said be not sufficient to 
de^er a man from suffering any consideration, no 
matter what, to induce him to delegate the care of 
his children, when very young, to any body whom- 
soever, nothing that I can say can possibly have that 
effect ; and I will, therefore, now proceed to offer 
my advice with regard to the management of chil- 
dren w T hen they get beyond the danger of being cra- 
zed or killed by nurses or servants. 

273. We here come to the subject of education in 
the true sense of that word, which is rearing up, 
seeing that the word comes from the Latin educo, 
which means to breed up, or to rear up. I shall, af- 
terwards, have to speak of education in the now com- 



V.] TO A FATHER. 207 

mon acceptation of the word, which makes it mean, 
book-learning'. At present, I am to speak of educa- 
tion in its true sense, as the French (who, as well as 
we, take the word from the Latin) always use it. 
They, in their agricultural works, talk of the " edu- 
cation du Cochon, de l'Ailouette, &c," that is of the 
hog, the lark, and so of other animals ; that is to say, 
of the manner of breeding them, or rearing them up, 
from their being little things 'till they be of full size. 
274. The first thing, in the rearing of children, 
who have passed from the baby-state, is, as to the 
body, plenty of good food ; and, as to the mind, con- 
stant good, example in the parents. Of the latter 1 
shall speak more by-and-by. With regard to the for- 
mer, it is of the greatest importance, that children 
be well fed ; and there never was a greater error 
than to believe that they do not need good food. 
Every one knows, that to have fine horses, the colts 
must be kept well, and that it is the same with re- 
gard to all animals of every sort and kind. The fine 
horses and cattle and sheep all come from the rich 
pastures. To have them fine, it is not sufficient that 
they have plenty of food when young, but that they 
have rich food.. Were there no land, no pasture, in 
England, but such as is found in Middlesex, Essex, 
and Surrey, we should see none of those coach- 
horses and dray-horses, whose height; and size make 
us stare. It is the keep when young that makes the 
fine animal. 

, 275. There is no other reason for the people in 
the American States being generally so much taller 
and stronger than the people in England are. Their 
forefathers went, for the greater part, from England. 
In the four Northern States they went wholly from 
England, and then, on their landing, they founded a 
new London, a new Falmouth, a new Plymouth, a 
new Portsmouth, a new Dover, a new Yarmouth, a 
new Lynn, a new Boston, and a new Hull, and the 
country itself they called, and their descendants still 
call, New England. This country of the best and 
boldest seamen, and of the most moral and happy 



208 cobbett's advice [Letter 

people in the world, is also the country of the tallest 
and ablest-bodied men in the world. And why ? 
Because, from their very birth, they have an abun- 
dance of good food ; not only of food, but of rich 
food. Even when the child is at the breast, a strip 
of beef-steak, or something of that description, as 
big and as long as one's finger, is put into its hand. 
When a baby gets a thing in its hand, the first thing 
it does is to poke some part of it into its mouth. It 
cannot bite the meat, but its gums squeeze out the 
juice. When it has done with the breast, it eats 
meat constantly twice, if not thrice, a day. And 
this abundance of good food is the cause, to be sure, 
of the superior size and strength of the people of 
that country. 

276. Nor is this, in any point of view, an unim- 
portant matter. A tall man is, whether as labourer, 
carpenter, bricklayer, soldier or sailor, or almost 
anything else, worth more than a short man : he can 
look over a higher thing ; he can reach higher and 
wider ; he can move on from place to place faster ; 
in mowing grass or corn he takes a wider swarth, in 
pitching he wants a shorter prong ; in making buil- 
dings he does not so soon want a ladder or a scaf- 
fold ; in fighting he keeps his body farther from the 
point of his sword. To be sure, a man may be tall 
and weak : but, this is the exception and not the 
rule : height and loeight and strength, in men as in 
speechless animals, generally go together. Aye, 
and in enterprise and courage too, the powers of the* 
body have a great deal to do. Doubtless there are, 
have been, and always will be, great numbers of 
small and enterprizing and brave men ; but it is not 
in nature, that, generally speaking, those who are 
conscious of their inferiority in point of bodily 
strength, should possess the boldness of those who 
have a contrary description. 

277. To what but this difference in the size and 
strength of the opposing combatants are we to as- 
cribe the ever-to-be-blushed-at events of our last war 
against the United States ! The hearts of our sea- 



V.J TO A FATHEH. 209 

men and soldiers were as good as those of the Yan- 
kees : on both sides they had sprung from the same 
stock : on both sides equally well supplied with all 
the materials of war : if on either side, the superior 
skill was on ours : French, Dutch, Spaniards, all had 
confessed our superior prowess : yet, when, with our 
whole undivided strength, and to that strength add- 
ing the flush and pride of victory and conquest, 
crowned even in the capital of France ; when, with 
all these tremendous advantages, and with all the 
nations of the earth looking on, we came foot to foot 
and yard-arm to yard-arm with the Americans, the 
result was such as an English pen refuses to describe. 
What, then, was the great cause of this result, 
which filled us with shame and the world with as- 
tonishment ? Not the want of courage in our men. 
There were, indeed, some moral causes at work ; but 
the main cause was, the great superiority of size and 
of bodily strength on the part of the enemy's sol- 
diers and sailors. It was so many men on each side ; 
but it was men of a different size and strength : and, 
on the side of the foe men accustomed to daring en- 
terprise from a consciousness of that strength. 

278. Why are abstinence and fasting enjoined by 
the Catholic Church ? Why, to make men humble, 
meek, and tame ; and they have this effect too : this 
is visible in whole nations as well as in individuals. 
So that good food, and plenty of it, is not more ne- 
cessary to the forming of a stout and able body 
than to the forming of an active and enterprizing 
spirit. Poor food, short allowance, while they check 
the growth of the child's body, check also the dar- 
ing of the mind ; and, therefore, the starving or 
pinching system ought to be avoided by all means. 
Children should eat often, and as much as they like 
at a time. They will, if at full heap, never take, of 
plain food, more than it is good for them to take. 
They may, indeed, be stuffed with cakes and sweet 
things till they be ill, and, indeed, until they bring 
on dangerous disorders : but, of meat plainly and 
well cooked, and of bread, thev will never swallow 
18* 



210 cobbett's advice [Letter 

the tenth part of an ounce more than it is necessary 
for them to swallow. Ripe fruit, or cooked fruit, if 
no sweetening take place, will never hurt them ; but, 
when they once get a taste for sugary stuff, and to 
cram down loads of garden vegetables ; when ices, 
creams, tarts, raisins, almonds, all the endless pam- 
perings come, the doctor must soon follow with his 
drugs. The blowing out of the bodies of children 
with tea, coffee, soup, or warm liquids of any kind, 
is very bad : these have an effect precisely like that 
which is produced by feeding young rabbits, or pigs, 
or other young animals upon watery vegetables : it 
makes them big-bellied and bareboned at the same 
time ; and it effectually prevents the frame from be- 
coming strong. Children in health want no drink 
other than skim milk, or butter-milk, or whey ; and, 
if none of those be at hand, water will do very well, 
provided they have plenty of good meat. Cheese 
and butter do very well for part of the day. Pud- 
dings and pies ; but always without sugar , which, 
say what people will about the wholesomeness of it, 
is not only of no use in the rearing of children, but 
injurious : it forces an appetite : like strong drink, 
it makes daily encroachments on the taste : it whee- 
dles down that which the stomach does not want : it 
finally produces illness : it is one of the curses of 
the country ; for it, by taking off the bitter of the 
tea and coffee, is the great cause of sending down 
into the stomach those quantities of warm water by 
which the body is debilitated and deformed and the 
mind enfeebled. I am addressing myself to persons 
in the middle walk of life ; but no parent can be sure 
that his child will not be compelled to labour hard 
for its daily bread : and then, how vast is the differ- 
ence between one who has been pampered with 
sweets and one who has been reared on plain food 
and simple drink ! 

279. The next thing after good and plentiful and 
plain food is good air. This is not within the reach 
of every one ; but, to obtain it is worth great sacri- 
fices in other respects. We know that there are 



V.] TO A FATHER. 211 

smells which will cause instant death ; we know, 
that there are others which will cause death in a few 
years ; and, therefore, we know that it is the duty 
of parents to provide, if possible, against this dan- 
ger to the health of their offspring. To be sure, 
when a man is so situated that he cannot give his 
children sweet air without putting himself into a jail 
for debt : when, in short, he has the dire choice of 
sickly children, children with big heads, small limbs, 
and ricketty joints : or children sent to the poor- 
house : when this is his hard lot, he must decide for 
the former sad alternative : but before he will con- 
vince me that this is his lot, he must prove to me, 
that he and his wife expend not a penny in the de- 
coration of their persons ; that on his table, morn- 
ing, noon, or night, nothing' ever comes that is not 
the produce of English soil; that of his time not 
one hour is wasted in what is called pleasure ; that 
down his throat not one drop or morsel ever goes, 
unless necessary to sustain life and health. How 
many scores and how many hundreds of men have 
I seen ; how many thousands could I go and point 
out, to-morrow, in London, the money expended on 
whose guzzlings in porter, grog and wine, would 
keep, and keep well, in the country, a considerable 
part of the year, a wife surrounded by healthy chil- 
dren, instead of being stewed up in some alley, or 
back room, with a parcel of poor creatures about 
her, whom she, though their fond mother, is almost 
ashamed to call hers ! Compared with the life of 
such a woman, that of the labourer, however poor 
is paradise. Tell me not of the necessity of provi 
ding money for them, even if you waste not a far- 
thin g: you can provide them with no money equal 
in value to health and straight limbs and good looks : 
these it is, if within your power, your bounden duty 
to provide for them : as to providing them with mo- 
ney, you deceive yourself ; it is your own avarice, 
©r vanity, that you are seeking to gratify, find not 
to ensure the good of your children. Their most 
precious possession is health and strength ; and you 



212 



cobbett's advice [Letter 



have no right to run the risk of depriving them of 
these for the sake of heaping together money to 
bestow on them : you have the desire to see them 
rich : it is to gratify yourself that you act in such a 
case ; and you, however you may deceive yourself, 
are guilty of injustice towards them. You would be 
ashamed to see them without fortune ; but not at all 
ashamed to see them without straight limbs, with- 
out colour in their cheeks, without strength, without 
activity, and with only half their due portion of 
reason. 

280. Besides sweet air r children want exercise. 
Even when they are babies in arms, they want toss- 
ing and pulling about 7 and want talking and singing 
to. They should be put upon their feet by slow 
degrees, according to the strength of their legs: 
and this is a matter which a good mother will at- 
tend to with incessant care. If they appear to be 
likely to squint, she will, always when they wake 
up, and frequently in the day, take care to present 
some pleasing object right before, and never on the 
side of their face. If they appear, when they begin 
to talk, to indicate a propensity to stammer, she 
will stop them, repeat the word or words slowly 
herself, and get them to do the same. These pre- 
cautions are amongst the most sacred of the duties 
of parents ; for, remember, the deformity is for life; 
a thought which will fill every good parent's heart 
with solicitude. All swaddling and tight covering 
are mischievous. They produce distortions of some 
sort or other. To let children creep and roll about 
till they get upon their legs themselves is a very 
good way. I never saw a native American with 
crooked limbs or hump-back, and never heard any 
man say that he had seen one. And the reason is, 
doubtless, the loose dress in which children, from the 
moment of their birth, are kept y the good food that 
they always have, and the sweet air that they breathe 
in consequence of the absence of all dread of poverty 
on the part of the parents. 

281. As to bodily exercise, they will, when they 



V. I TO A FATHER. 213 

begin to get about, take, if you let them alone, just 
as much of it as nature bids them, and no more. 
That is a pretty deal, indeed, if they be in health ; 
and, it is your duty, now, to provide for their ta- 
king of that exercise, when they begin to be what 
are called boys and girls, in a way that shall tend to 
give them the greatest degree of pleasure, accompa- 
nied with the smallest risk of pain : in other words, 
to make their lives as pleasant as you possibly can. I 
have always admired the sentiment of Rousseau upon 
this subject. " The boy dies, perhaps, at the age of 
" ten or twelve. Of what use, then, all the restraints, 
" all the privations, all the pain, that you have in- 
" meted upon him ? He falls, and leaves your 
" mind to brood over the possibility of your having 
" abridged a life so dear to you." I do not recollect 
the very words ; but the passage made a deep im- 
pression upon my mind, just at the time, too, when I 
was about to become a father ; and I was resolved 
never to bring upon myself remorse from such a 
cause ; a resolution from which no importunities, 
coming from what quarter they might, ever induced 
me, in one single instance, or for one single moment, 
to depart. I was resolved to forego all the means of 
making money, all the means of living in any thing 
like fashion, all the means of obtaining fame or dis- 
tinction, to give up every thing, to become a com- 
mon labourer, rather than make my children lead a 
life of restraint and rebuke ; I could not be sure that 
my children would love me as they loved their own 
lives ; but I was, at any rate, resolved to deserve 
such love at their hands ; and, in possession of that, 
I felt that I could set calamity, of whatever descrip- ' 
tion, at defiance. 

282. Now, proceeding to relate what was, in this 
respect, my line of conduct, I am not pretending 
that every man, and particularly every man living in 
a town, can, in all respects, do as I did in the rear- 
ing up of children. But, in many respects, any 
man may, whatever may be his state of life. For I 
did not lead an idle life \ I had to work constantly 



214 cobbett's advice [Letter 

for the means of living; my occupation required 
unremitted attention ; I had nothing but my labour 
to rely on ; and I had no friend, to whom, in case 
of need, I could fly for assistance : I always saw 
the possibility, and even the probability, of being 
totally ruined by the hand of power; but, happen 
what would, I was resolved, that, as long as I couid 
cause them to do it, my children should lead happy 
lives ; and happy lives they did lead r if ever children 
did in this whole world. 

283. The first thing that I did, when the fourth 
child had come, was to get into the country, and so 
far as to render a going backward and forward to 
London, at short intervals, quite out of the question. 
Thus was health, the greatest of all things, provided 
for, as far as I was able to make the provision. Next. 
my being always at home was secured as far as pos- 
sible; always with them to set an example of early 
rising, sobriety, and application to something or 
other. Children, and especially boys, will have 
some-out-of-doors pursuits ; and it was my duty to 
lead them to choose such pursuits as combined fu- 
ture utility with present innocence. Each his 
flower-bed, little garden, plantation of trees ; rabbits, 
dogs, asses^ horses, pheasants and hares ; hoes, 
spades, whips, guns; always some object of lively 
interest, and as much earnestness and bustle about 
the various objects as if our living had solely de- 
pended upon them. I made every thing give way to 
the great object of making their lives happy and in- 
nocent. I did not know what they might be in time,, 
or what might be my lot; but I was resolved not to 
be the cause of their being unhappy then, let what 
might become of us afterwards. I was, as I am, of 
opinion, that it is injurious to the mind to press 
book learning upon it at an early age : I always felt 
pain for poor little things, setup, before " company," 
to repeat verses, or bits of plays, at six or eight 
years old. I have sometimes not known which way 
to look, when a mother (and, too often, a father,) 
whom I could not but respect on accjunt of her 



V«1 TO A FATHER. 215 

fondness for her child, has forced the feeble-voiced 
eighth wonder of the world, to stand with its little 
hand stretched out, spouting the soliloquy of Hamlet, 
or some such thing. I remember, on one occasion, 
a little pale-faced creature, only five years old, was 
brought in, after the feeding- part of the dinner was 
over, first to take his regular half-glass of vintner's 
brewings, commonly called wine, and then to treat 
us to a display of his wonderful genius. The sub- 
ject was a speech of a robust and bold youth, in a 
Scotch play, the title of which I have forgotten, but 
the speech began with, " My name is Nerval : on 
the Grampian Hills my father fed his flocks..." 
And this in a voice so weak and distressing as to 
put me in mind of the plaintive squeaking of little 
pigs when the sow is lying on them. As we were 
going home (one of my boys and I) he, after a si- 
lence of half a mile perhaps, rode up close to the 
side of my horse, and said, "Papa, where be the 
u Grampian Hills V* " Oh," said I, • " they are in 
"Scotland; poor, barren, beggarly places, covered 
"with heath and rushes, ten times as barren as 
" Sheril Heath." " But," said he, " how could that 
" little boy's father feed his flocks there, then ?" I 
was ready to tumble off the horse with laughing. 

284. I do not know any thing much more distress- 
ing to the spectators than exhibitions of this sort. 
Every one feels not for the child, for it is insensible 
to the uneasiness it excites, but for the parents, whose 
amiable fondness displays itself in this ridiculous 
manner. Upon these occasions, no one knows what 
to say, or whither to direct his looks. The parents, 
and especially the fond mother, looks sharply round 
for the so-evidently merited applause, as an actor of 
the name of Munden, whom I recollect thirty years 
ago, used, when he had treated us to a witty shrug 
of his shoulders, or twist of his chin, to turn his face 
up to the gallery for the clap. If I had to declare on 
my oath which have been the most disagreeable mo- 
ments of my life, I verily believe, that, after due con- 
sideration, I should fix upon those, in hich parents, 



216 cobbett's advice [Letter 

whom I have respected, have made me endure exhi- 
bitions like these ; for, this is your choice, to be in- 
sincere, or to give offence. 

285. And, as towards the child, it is to be unjust y 
thus to teach it to set a high value on trifling, not to 
say mischievous, attainments ; to make it, whether 
it be in its natural disposition or not, vain and con- 
ceited. The plaudits which it receives, in such cases, 
puffs it up in its ow r n thoughts, sends it out into the 
world stuffed with pride and insolence, which must 
and will be extracted out of it by one means or ano- 
ther ; and none but those who have had to endure 
the drawing of firmly-fixed teeth, can, I take it, have 
an adequate idea of the painfulness of this opera- 
tion. Now, parents have no right thus to indulge 
their own feelings at the risk of the happiness of 
their children. 

286. The great matter is, however, the spoiling of 
the mind by forcing on it thoughts which it is not fil 
to receive. We know well, we daily see, that in men, 
as well as in other animals, the body is rendered 
comparatively small and feeble by being heavily 
loaded, or hard worked, before it arrive at size and 
strength proportioned to such load and such work. 
It is just so with the mind : the attempt to put old 
heads upon young shoulders is just as unreasonable 
as it would be to expect a colt six months old to be 
able to carry a man. The mind, as well as the body, 
requires time to come to its strength ; and the way 
to have it possess, at last, its natural strength, is not 
to attempt to load it too soon ; and to favour it in its 
progress by giving to the body good and plentiful 
food, sweet air, and abundant exercise, accompanied 
with as little discontent or uneasiness as possible. It 
is universally known, that ailments of the body are, 
in many cases, sufficient to destroy the mind, and to 
debilitate it in innumerable instances. It is equally 
well known, that the torments of the mind are, in 
many cases, sufficient to destroy the body. This, then, 
being so well known, is it not the first duty of a fa- 
ther to secure to his children, if possible, sound and 



V.J TO A FATHER. 217 

strong bodies? Lord Bacon says, that "a sound 
" mind in a sound body is the greatest of God's bles- 
" sings." To see his children possess these, therefore, 
ought to be the first object with every father ; an ob- 
ject which I cannot too often endeavour to fix in his 
mind. 

287. I am to speak presently of that sort of learn- 
ing which is derived from books, and which is a mat- 
ter by no means to be neglected, or to be thought 
little of, seeing that it is the road, not only to fame, 
but to the means of doing great good to one's neigh 
bours and to one's country, and, thereby, of adding 
to those pleasant feelings which are, in other words, 
our happiness. But, notwithstanding this, I must 
here insist, and endeavour to impress my opinion 
upon the mind of every father, that his children's 
happiness ought to be his first object ; that book-learn- 
ing, if it tend to militate against this, ought to be 
disregarded ; and that, as to money, as to fortune, as 
to rank and title, that father who can, in the destina- 
tion of his children, think of them more than of the 
happiness of those children, is, if he be of sane mind, 
a great criminal. Who is there, having lived to the 
age of thirty, or even twenty, years, and having the 
ordinary capacity for observation ; who is there, be- 
ing of this description, who must not be convinced 
of the inadequacy of riches and what are called 
honours to insure happiness ? Who, amongst all the 
classes of men, experience, on an average, so little of 
real pleasure, and so much of real pain as the rich 
and the lofty? Pope gives us, as the materials for 
happiness, " health, peace, and competence" Aye, but 
what is peace, and what is competence ? If, by peace, 
he mean that tranquillity of mind which innocence 
and good deeds produce, he is right and clear so far; 
for we all know that, without health, which has a 
well-known positive meaning, there can be no hap- 
piness. But competence is a word of unfixed mean- 
ing. It may, with some, mean enough to eat, drink, 
wear and be lodged and warmed with; but, with 
others, it may include horses, carriages, and footmen 
19 



218 'jobbett"3 advice [Letter 

laced over from top to toe. So that, here, we have 
no guide; no standard; and, indeed, there can be 
none. But as every sensible father must know that 
the possession of riches do not, never did, and never 
can, afford even a chance of additional happiness, it 
is his duty to inculcate in the minds of his children 
to make no sacrifice of principle, of moral obligation 
of any sort, in order to obtain riches, or distinction; 
and it is a duty still more imperative on him, not to 
expose them to the risk of loss of health, or diminu- 
tion of strength, for purposes which have, either 
directly or indirectly, the acquiring of riches in view, 
whether for himself or for them. 

288. With these principles immoveably implanted 
in my mind, I became the father of a family, and on 
these principles I have reared that family. Being 
myself fond of book-learning, and knowing well its 
powers, I naturally wished them to possess it too ; 
but never did I impose it upon any one of them. My 
first duty was to make them healthy and strong, if 1 
could, and to give them as much enjoyment of life 
as possible. Born and bred up in the sweet air my- 
self, I was resolved that they should be bred up in it 
too. Enjoying rural scenes and sports, as I had done ? 
when a boy, as much as any one that ever was born, 
I was resolved, that they should have the same en- 
joyments tendered to them. When I was a very lit- 
tle boy, I was, in the barley-sowing season, going 
along by the side of a field, near Waverly Abbey; 
the primroses and blue-bells bespangling the banks 
on both sides of me; a thousand linnets singing in 
a spreading oak over my head ; while the jingle of 
the traces and the whistling of the ploughboys sa- 
luted my ear from over the hedge; and, as it were to 
snatch me from the enchantment, the hounds, at that 
instant, having started a hare in the hanger on the 
other side of the field, came up scampering over it 
in full ciy, taking me after them many a mile. I was 
not more than eight years old; but this particular 
scene has presented itself to my mind many times 
every year from that day to this. I always enjoy it 



V.] TO A FATHER. 219 

over again ; and I was resolved to give, if possible 
the same enjoyments to my children. 

289. Men's circumstances are so various ; there is 
such a great variety in their situations in life, their 
business, the extent of their pecuniary means, the 
local state in which they are placed, their internal re- 
sources ; the variety in all these respects is so great, 
that, as applicable to every family, it would be im- 
possible to lay down any set of rules, or maxims, 
touching every matter relating to the management 
and rearing up of children. In giving an account, 
therefore, of my own conduct, in this respect, I am 
not to be understood as supposing, that every father 
can, or ought, to attempt to do the same; but while 
it will be seen, that there are many, and these the 
most important parts of that conduct, that all fathers 
may imitate, if they choose, there is no part of it 
which thousands and thousands of fathers might not 
adopt and pursue, and adhere to, to the very letter. 

290. I effected every thing without scolding, and 
even without command. My children are a family 
of scholars, each sex its appropriate species of learn- 
ing ; and, I could safely take my oath, that I never 
ordered a child of mine, son or daughter, to look into 
a book, in my life. My two eldest sons, when about 
eight years old, were, for the sake of their health, 
placed for a very short time, at a Clergyman's at 
Micheldever, and my eldest daughter, a little older, 
at a school a few miles from Botley, to avoid taking 
them to London in the winter. But, with these ex- 
ceptions, never had they, while children, teacher of 
any description ; and I never, and nobody else ever, 
taught any one of them to read, write, or any thing 
else, except in conversation ; and, 3^-et, no man was 
ever more anxious to be the father of a family of 
clever and learned persons. 

291. I accomplished my purpose indirectly. The 
first thing of all was health, which was secured by 
the deeply-interesting and never-ending sports of the 
field and pleasures of the garden. Luckily these 
things were treated of in books and pictures of end- 



220 cobbett's advice [Letter 

less variety ; so that on wet days, in long evenings^ 
these came into play. A large, strong table, in the 
middle of the room, their mother sitting at her work, 
used to be surrounded with them, the baby, if big 
enough, set up in a high chair. Here were ink- 
stands, pens, pencils, India rubber, and paper, all in 
abundance, and every one scrabbled about as he or 
she pleased. There were prints of animals of all 
sorts ; books treating of them : others treating of 
gardening, of flowers, of husbandry, of hunting, 
coursing, shooting, fishing, planting, and, in short, 
of every thing, with regard to which we had some- 
thing to do. One would be trying to imitate a bit of 
my writing, another drawing the pictures of some 
of our dogs or horses, a third poking over Bewick's 
Quadrupeds, and picking out what he said about 
them : but our book of never-failing resource was 
the French Maison Rustique, or Farm-House, 
which, it is said, was the book that first tempted 
Duquesnois (I think that was the name), the famous 
physician, in the reign of Louis XIV., to learn to 
read. Here are all the four-legged animals, from 
the horse down to the mouse, portraits and all ; all 
the birds, reptiles, insects ; all the modes of rearing, 
managing, and using the tame ones; all the modes 
of taking the wild ones, and of destroying those that 
are mischievous; all the various traps, springs, nets ; 
all the implements of husbandry and gardening; all 
the labours of the field and the garden exhibited, as 
well as the rest, in plates ; and, there was I, in my 
leisure moments, to join this inquisitive group, to 
read the French, and tell them what it meaned in 
English, when the picture did not sufficiently explain 
itself. I never have been without a copy of this 
book for forty years, except during the time that I 
was fleeing from the dungeons of Castlereagh and 
Sidmouth, in 1817; and, when I got to Long Island, 
the first book Ibought was another Maison Rustique. 
292. "What need had w r e of schools ? What need 
of teachers ? What need of scolding and force, to 
induce children to read, write, and love books ? What 



V.] TO A FATHER. 221 

need of cards, dice, or of any games, to "kill time; 91 
but, in fact, to implant in the infant heart a love of 
gaming-, one of the most destructive of all human 
vices ? We did not want to " kill time ;" we were 
always busy, wet weather or dry weather, winter or 
summer. There was no force in any case ; no 
command; no autlvority ; none of these was ever 
wanted. To teach the children the habit of early 
rising was a great object ; and every one knows how 
young people cling to their beds, and how loth they 
are to go to those beds. This was a capital matter j 
because, here were industry- and Iiealih both at stake. 
Yet, I avoided command even here ; and merely of- 
fered a reward. The child that was down stairs 
first, was called the Lark for that day ; and, further, 
sat at my right hand at dinner. They soon disco- 
vered, that to rise early, they must go to bed early; 
and thus was this most important object secured, 
with regard to girls as well as boys. Nothing more 
inconvenient, and, indeed, more disgusting, than to 
have to do with girls, or young women, who lounge 
in bed : " A little more sleep, a little more slumber, 
a little more folding of the hands to sleep." Solo- 
mon knew them well : he had, I dare say, seen the 
breakfast cooling, carriages and horses and servants 
waiting, the sun coming burning on, the day wast- 
ing, the night growing dark too early, appointments 
broken, and the objects of journeys defeated ; and 
all this from the lolloping in bed of persons who 
ought to have risen with the sun. No beauty, no mo- 
desty, no accomplishments, are a compensation for 
the effects of laziness in women ; and, of all the 
proofs of laziness, none is so unequivocal as that of 
lying late m bed. Love makes men overlook this 
vice (for it is a vice), for a while ; but, this does not 
last for life. Besides, health demands early rising : 
the management of a house imperiously demands it; 
but health, that most precious possession, without 
which there is nothing else worth possessing, de- 
mands it too. The morning air is the most whole- 
some and strengthening : even in crowded cities, 



222 coebett's advice [Letter 

men might do pretty well with the aid of the morn- 
ing air ; but, how are they to rise early, if they go 
to bed late ? 

293. But, to do the things I did, you must love 
home yourself; to rear up children in this manner, 
you must live with them ; you must make them, too, 
feel, by your conduct, that you 'prefer this to any 
other mode of passing your time. All men cannot 
lead this sort of life, but many may ; and all much 
more than many do. My occupation, to be sure, 
was chiefly carried on at home ; but, I had always 
enough to do ; I never spent an idle week, or even 
day, in my whole life. Yet I found time to talk with 
them, to walk, or ride, about with them ; and when 
forced to go from home, always took one or more 
with me. You must be good-tempered too with 
them ; they must like your company belter than any 
other person's ; they must not wish you away, not 
fear your coming back, not look upon your depar- 
ture as a holiday. When my business kept me away 
from the scrabbling-table, a petition often came, that 
I would go and talk with the group, and the bearer 
generally was the youngest, being the most likely to 
succeed. When I went from home, all followed me 
to the outer-gate, and looked after me, till the car- 
riage, or horse, was out of sight. At the time ap- 
pointed for my return, all were prepared to meet me ; 
and if it were late at night, they sat up as long as 
they were able to keep their eyes open. This love 
of parents, and this constant pleasure at home, made 
them not even think of seeking pleasure abroad ; 
and they, thus, were kept from vicious playmates 
and early corruption. 

294 This is the age, too, to teach children to be 
trust-worthy, and to be merciful and humane. We 
lived in a garden of about two acres, partly kitch- 
en-garden with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, 
and partly grass. There were the peaches, as tempt- 
ing as any that ever grew, and yet as safe from fin- 
gers as if no child were ever in the garden. It was 
not necessary to forbid. The blackbirds, the thrush- 



V.] TO A FATHER. 223 

es, the white-throats, and even that very shy bird 
the goldfinch, had their nests and bred up their 
young-ones, in great abundance, all about this little 
spot, constantly the play-place of six children ; and 
one of the latter had its nest, and brought up its 
young-ones, in a raspberry-bush, within two yards 
.of a walk, and at the time that we were gathering 
the ripe raspberries. We give dogs, and justly, great 
credit for sagacity and memory ; but the following 
two most curious instances, which I should not ven- 
ture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to 
the facts, in my neighbours at Botley, as well as in 
my own family, will show, that birds are not, in this 
respect, inferior to the canine race. All country 
people know that the skylark is a very shy bird ; 
that its abode is the open fields : that it settles on 
the ground only ; that it seeks safety in the wideness 
of space ; that it avoids enclosures, and is never seen 
in gardens. A part of our ground was a grass-plat 
of about forty rods, or a quarter of an acre, which^ 
one year, was left to be mowed for hay. A pair of 
larks, coming out of the fields into the middle of a 
pretty populous village, chose to make their nest in 
the middle of this little spot, and at not more than 
about thirty : five yards from one of the doors of the 
house, in which there were about twelve persons 
living, and six of those children, who had constant 
access to all parts of the ground. There we saw 
the cock rising up and singing, then taking his turn 
upon the eggs; and by-and-by, we observed him 
cease to sing, and saw them both constantly engaged 
in bringing food to the young ones. No unintelligi- 
ble hint to fathers and mothers of the human race, 
who have, before marriage, taken delight in music. 
But the time came for wowing the grass ! I waited 
a good many days for the brood to get away ; but, 
at last, I determined on the day; and if the larks 
were there still, to leave a patch of grass standing 
round them. In order not to keep them in dread 
longer than necessary, I brought three able mowers, 
who would cut the whole in about an hour ; and as 



224 cobbett's advice [Letter 

the plat was nearly circular, set them to mow round, 
beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity in- 
deed ! The moment the men began to whet their 
scythes, the two old larks began to flutter over the 
nest, and to make a great clamour. When the men 
began to mow, they flew round and round, stooping 
so low, when near the men, as almost to touch their 
bodies, making a great chattering at the same time ; 
but before the men had got round with the second 
swarth, they flew to the nest, and away they went, 
young ones and all, across the river, at the foot of 
the ground, and settled in the long grass in my 
neighbour's orchard. 

295. The other instance relates to a house-mar- 
ten. It is well known that these birds build their 
nests under the eaves of inhabited houses, and 
sometimes under those of door porches ; but we had 
one that built its nest in the house, and upon the top 
of a common door-case, the door of which opened 
into a room out of the main passage into the house* 
Perceiving the marten had begun to build its nest 
here, we kept the front-door open in the daytime ; 
but were obliged to fasten it at night. It went on, 
had eggs, young ones, and the young ones flew. I 
used to open the door in the morning early, and then 
the birds carried on their affairs till night. The 
next year the marten came again, and had another 
brood in the same 'place. It found its old nest ; and 
having repaired it, and put it in order, went on again 
in the former way ; and it would, I dare say, have 
continued to come to the end of its life, if we had 
remained there so long, notwithstanding there were 
six healthy children in the house, making just as 
much noise as they pleased. 

296. Now, what sagacity in these birds, to disco- 
ver that those were places of safety ! And how 
happy it must have made us, the parents, to be sure 
that our children had thus deeply imbibed habits the 
contrary of cruelty ! For, be it engraven on your 
heart, young man, that, whatever appearances may 
say to the contrary, cruelty is always accompanied 



V.] TO A FATHER. 225 

with cowardice, and also with perfidy , when that 
is called for by the circumstance of the case ; and 
that habitual acts of cruelty to other creatures, will, 
nine times out of ten, produce, when the power is 
possessed, cruelty to human beings. The ill-usage 
of horses, and particularly asses, is a grave and a 
just charge against this nation. No other nation on 
earth is guilty of it to the same extent. Not only by 
blows, but by privation, are we cruel towards these 
useful, docile, and patient creatures ; and especially 
towards the last, which is the most docile and pa- 
tient and laborious of the two, while the food that 
satisfies it, is of the coarsest and least costly kind, 
and in quantity so small ! In the habitual ill-treat- 
ment of this animal, which, in addition to all its la- 
bours, has the milk taken from its young ones to 
administer a remedy for our ailments, there is some- 
thing that bespeaks ingratitude hardly to be descri- 
bed. In a Register that I wrote from Long Island, 
I said, that amongst all the things of which I had 
been bereft, I regretted no one so much as a very di- 
minutive mare, one which my children had all, in 
succession, learned to ride. She was become useless 
for them, and indeed, for any other purpose ; but the 
recollection of her was so entwined with so many 
past circumstances, which, at that distance, my 
mind conjured up, that I really was very uneasy, 
lest she should fall into cruel hands. By good luck, 
she was, after a while, turned out. on the wide world to 
shift for herself ;• and when we got back, and had a 
place for her to stand in, from her native forest we 
brought her to Kensington, and she is now at Barn- 
Elm, about twenty-six years old, and I dare say as fat 
as a mole. Now, not only have I no moral right (con- 
sidering my ability to pay for keep) to deprive her 
of life ; but it would be unjust and ungrateful, in me 
to withhold from her sufficient food and lodging to 
make life as pleasant as possible while that life last. 
297. In the meanwhile the book-learning crept in 
of its own accord, by imperceptible degrees. Child- 
ren naturally want to be like their parents, and to do 



226 cobbett's advice [Letter 

what they do : the boys following their father, and 
the girls their mother ; and as I was always writing 
or reading, mine naturally desired to do something 
in the same way. But, at the same time, they heard 
no talk from fools or drinkers ; saw me with no idle, 
gabbling, empty companions ; saw no vain and af- 
fected coxcombs, and no tawdry and extravagant 
women : saw no nasty gormandizing ; and heard 
no gabble about play-houses and romances and the 
other nonsense that fit boys to be lobby-loungers, 
and girls to be the ruin of industrious and frugal 
young men. 

298. We wanted no stimulants of this sort to 
keep up our spirits: our various pleasing pursuits 
were quite sufficient for that ; and the book-learning 
came amongst the rest of the pleasures, to which it 
was, in some sort, necessary. I remember that, one 
year, I raised a prodigious crop of fine melons, un- 
der hand-glasses ; and I learned how to do it from a 
gardening book ; or, at least, that book was necessa- 
ry to remind me of the details. Having passed part 
of an evening in talking to the boys about getting 
this crop, " Come, 55 said I, " now, let us read the 
hook." Then the book came forth, and to work we 
went, following very strictly the precepts of the 
book. I read the thing but once, but the eldest boy 
read it, perhaps, twenty times over ; and explained 
all about the matter to the others. Why here was a 
motive! Then he had to tell the garden -labourer 
what to do to the melons. Now, 1 will engage, that 
more was really learned by this single lesson, than 
would have been learned by spending, at this son's 
age, a year at school : and he happy and delighted all 
the while. When any dispute arose amongst them 
about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pur- 
suits, they, by degrees, found out the way of settling 
it by reference to some book ; and when any difficul- 
ty occurred, as to the meaning, they referred to me, 
who, if at home, always instantly attended to thern^ 
in these matters. 

299. They began writing by taking words out ol 



V.] TO A FATHER. 227 

printedbooks ; finding out which letter was which, by 
asking me, or asking those who knew the letters one 
from- another ; and by imitating bits of my writing, 
it is surprising how soon they began to write a hand 
like mine, very small, very faint- stroked, and nearly 
plain as print. The first use that any one of them 
made of the pen, was to write to me, though in the 
same house with them. They began doing this in 
mere scratches, before they knew how to make any 
one letter : and as I was always folding up letters 
and directing them, so were they ; and they were 
sure to receive a prompt answer, with most encoura- 
ging- compliments. All the meddlings and teazings 
of friends, and, what was more serious, the press- 
ing prayers of their anxious mother, about sending 
them to school, I withstood without the slightest 
effect on my resolution. As to friends, preferring 
my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much ; 
but an expression of anxiety, implying a doubt of 
the soundness of my own judgment, coming, per- 
haps, twenty times a day from her whose care they 
were as well as mine, was not a matter to smile at, 
and very great trouble did it give me. My answer 
at last was, as to the boys, I want them to be like 
me ; and as to the girls, In whose hands can they be 
so safe as in yours ? Therefore my resolution is ta- 
ken : go to school they shall not. 

300. Nothing is much more annoying than the 
intermeddling' of friends, in a case like this. The 
wife appeals to them, and " good br ceding f that is 
to say, nonsense, is sure to put them on her side 
Then, they, particularly the women, when descri- 
bing the surprising progress made by their own 
soils at school, used, if one of mine were present, to 
turn to him, and ask, to what school he went, and 
what he was learning ? I leave any one to judge 
of his opinion of her ; and whether he would like 
her the better for that ! " Bless me, so tall, and not 
learned any thing yet /" " Oh yes, he has," I used 
to say, " he has learned to ride, and hunt, and shoot, 
tt and fish, and look after cattle and sheep, and to 



228 cobbett's advice [Letter 

" work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to go 
w from village to village in the dark." This was the 
way I used to manage with troublesome customers of 
this sort. And how glad the children used to be, when 
they got clear of such criticising people ! And how 
grateful they felt to me for the protection which 
they saw that I gave them against that state of re- 
straint, of which other people's boys complained ! 
Go whither they might, they found no place so 
pleasant as home, and no soul that came near them 
affording them so many means of gratification as 
they received from me. 

301. In this happy state we lived, until the year 
1810, when the government laid its merciless fangs 
upon me, dragged me from these delights, and 
crammed me into a jail amongst felons ; of which I 
shall have to speak more fully, when, in the last 
Number, I come to speak of the duties of the Citi- 
zen. This added to the difficulties of my task of 
teaching ; for now I was snatched away from the 
only scene in which it could, as I thought, properly 
be executed. But even these difficulties were got 
over. The blow was, to be sure, a terrible one; 
and, oh God ! how was it felt by these poor child- 
ren ! It was in the month of July when the horri- 
ble sentence was passed upon me. My wife, having 
left her children in the care of her good and affec- 
tionate sister, was in London, waiting to know the 
doom of her husband. When the news arrived at 
Botley, the three boys, one eleven, another nine, and 
the other seven, years old, were hoeing cabbages in 
that garden which had been the source of so much 
delight. When the account of the savage sentence 
was brought to them, the youngest could not, for 
some time, be made to understand what a jail was ; 
and, when he did, he. all in a tremor, exclaimed, 
" Now I'm sure, William, that Papa is not in a place 
like that /" The other, in order to disguise his tears 
and smother his sobs, fell to work with the hoe, and 
chopped about like a blind person. This account, 
when it reached me, affected me more, filled me 



V.J TO A FATHER. 220 

with deeper resentment, than any other circum- 
stance. And, oh ! how I despise the wretches who 
talk of my vindictiveness ; of my exultation at the 
confusion of those who inflicted those sufferings I 
How I despise the base creatures, the crawling slaves, 
the callous and cowardly hypocrites, who affect to 
be " shocked" (tender souls !) at my expressions of 
joy, and at the death of Gibbs, Ellenborough, Perci- 
val, Liverpool, Canning, and the rest of the tribe 
that I have already seen out, and at the fatal work- 
ings of that system, for endeavouring to check 
which I was thus punished ! How I despise these 
wretches, and how I, above all things, enjoy their 
ruin, and anticipate their utter beggary ! What ! 
I am to forgive, am I, injuries like this ; and that, 
too, without any atonement? Oh, no! I have not 
so read the Holy Scriptures ; I have not, from them, 
learned that I am not to rejoice at the fall of unjust 
foes ; and it makes a part of my happiness to be 
able to tell millions of men that I do thus rejoice, and 
that I have the means of calling on so many just 
and merciful men to rejoice along with me. 

302. Now, then, the book-learning was forced upon 
us. I had a farm in hand. It was necessary that I 
should be constantly informed of what was doing. 
I gave all the orders, whether as to purchases, sales, 
ploughing, sowing, breeding ; in short with regard 
to every thing, and the things were endless in num- 
ber and variety, and always full of interest. My 
eldest son and daughter could now write well and 
fast. One or the other of these was always at Bot- 
ley ; and I had with me (having hired the best part 
of the keeper's house) one or two, besides either this 
brother or sister ; the mother coming up to town 
about once in two or three months, leaving the house 
and children in the care of her sister. We had a 
hamper, with a lock and two keys, which came up 
once a week,or oftener,bringing me fruit and all sorts 
of country fare, for the carriage of which, cost free, 
I was indebted to as good a man as ever God created, 
the late Mr. George Rogers, of Southampton, who, 
20 



230 cobbett's advice [Letter 

in the prime of life, died deeply lamented by thou- 
sands, but by none more deeply than by me and my 
family, who have to thank him, and the whole of his 
excellent family, for benefits and marks of kindness 
without number. 

303. Tuis hamper, which was always, at both ends 
of the line, looked for with the most lively feelings, 
became our school It brought me a journal of La- 
bours, proceedings •, and occurrences, written on pa- 
per of shape and size uniform, and so contrived, as 
to margins, as to admit of binding. The journal 
used, when my son was the writer, to be interspersed 
with drawings of our dogs, colts, or any thing that 
he wanted me to have a correct idea of. The hamper 
brought me plants, bulbs, and the like, that I might 
see the size of them ; and always every one sent his or 
her most beautiful flowers ; the earliest violets, and 
primroses, and cowslips, and blue-bells; the earliest 
twigs of trees ; and, in short, every thing that they 
thought calculated to delight me. The moment the 
hamper arrived, I, casting aside every thing else, set 
to work to answer every question, to give new direc- 
tions, and to add any thing likely to give pleasure at 
Botley. Every hamper brought one " letter-," as they 
called it, if not more, from every child ; and to every 
letter 1 wrote an answer, sealed up and sent to the 
party, being sure that that was the way to produce 
other and better letters ; for, though they could not 
read what I wrote, and though their own consisted 
at first of mere scratches, and afterwards, for a while, 
of a few words written down for them to imitate, I 
always thanked them for their " pretty letter" ; and 
never expressed any wish to see them write-better ; 
but took care to write in a very neat and plain hand 
myself, and to do up my letter in a very neat manner. 

304. Thus, while the ferocious tigers thought I 
was doomed to incessant mortification, and to rage 
that must extinguish my mental powers, I found in 
my children, and in their spotless and courageous 
and most affectionate mother, delights to which the 
callous hearts of those tigers were strangers. " Hea- 



V.] TO A FATHER. 231 

ven first taught letters for some wretch's aid." How 
often did this line of Pope occur to me when I open- 
ed the little spuddling " letters" from Botley ! This 
correspondence occupied a good part of my time : I 
1 ad all the children with me, turn and turn about: 
and, in order to give the boys exercise, and to give 
the two eldest an opportunity of beginning to learn 
French, I used, for a part of the two years, to send 
ihem a few hours in the day to an Abbe, who lived 
in Castle-street, Holborn. All this was a great relax- 
ation to my mind; and, when I had to return to my 
literary labours, I returned fresh and cheerful, full ol 
vigour, and full of hope, of finally seeing my unjust 
and merciless foes at my feet, and that, too, without 
caring a straw on whom their fall might bring ca- 
lamity, so that my own family were safe ; because, 
say what any one might, the community, taken as a 
whole, had suffered this thing to be done unto us. 

305. The paying of the work-people, the keeping 
of the accounts, the referring to books, the writing 
and reading of letters; this everlasting mixture of 
amusements with book-learning, made me, almost 
to my own surprise, find, at the end of the two years, 
that I had a parcel of scholars growing up about me; 
and, long before the end of the time, I had dictated 
many Registers to my two eldest children. Then, 
there was copying out of books, which taught spel- 
ling correctly. The calculations about the farming 
affairs forced arithmetic upon us: the use, the neces- 
sity, of the thing, led to the study. By-and-by, we 
had to look into the laws to know what to do about 
the highways, about the game, about, the poor, and 
all rural and parochial affairs. I was, indeed, by the 
fangs of the government, defeated in my fondly- 
cherished project of making my sons farmers on 
their own land, and keeping them from all tempta- 
tion to seek vicious and enervating enjoyments; but 
those fangs, merciless as they had been, had not 
been able to prevent me from laying in for their lives 
a store of useful information, habits of industry 
care, sobriety, and a taste for innocent, healthful, and 



232 cobbett's advice [Lettei 

manly pleasures : the fangs had made me and them 
pennylesss ; but, they had not been able to take from 
us our health or our mental possessions ; and these 
were ready for application as circumstances might 
ordain. 

306. After the age that I have now been speaking 
of, fourteen, I suppose every one became a reader and 
writer according to fancy. As to books, with the ex- 
ception of the Poets, I never bought, in my whole 
life, any one that I did not want for some purpose oi 
utility, and of practical utility too. I have two or 
three times had the whole collection snatched away 
from me ; and have begun again to get them together 
as they were wanted. Go and kick an Ant's nest 
about, and you will see the little laborious, coura- 
geous creatures instantly set to work to get it toge- 
ther again ; and if you do this ten times over, ten 
times over they will do the same. Here is the sort 
of stuff that men must be made of to oppose, with 
success, those who, by whatever means, get posses- 
sion of great and mischievous power. 

307. Now, I am aware, that that which I did, can- 
not be done by every one of hundreds of thousands 
of fathers, each of whom loves his children with all 
his soul : I am aware that the attorney, the surgeon, 
the physician, the trader, and even the farmer, can- 
not, generally speaking, do what I did, and that they 
must, in most cases, send their sons to school, if it 
be necessary for them to have book-learning. But 
while I say this, I know, that there are many things, 
which I did, which many fathers might do, and 
which, nevertheless, they do not do. It is, in the 
power of every father to live at home with his fami- 
ly, when not compelled by business, or by public duty, 
to be absent : it is in his power to set an example of 
industry and sobriety and frugality, and to prevent 
a taste for gaming, dissipation, extravagance, from 
getting root in the minds of his children : it is in his 
power to continue to make his children hearers, 
when he is reproving servants for idleness, or com- 
mending them for industry and care : it is in his 



V.| TO A FATHER. 238 

power to keep all dissolute and idly-talking compa- 
nions from his house: it is in his power to teach 
them, by his uniform example, justice and mercy 
towards the inferior animals : it is in his power to do 
many other things, and something in the way of 
book-learning too, however busy his life may be. It 
is completely within his power to teach them early- 
rising and early going to bed; and, if many a man, 
who says that he has not time to teach his children, 
were to sit down, in sincerity, with a pen and a bit of 
paper, and put down all the minutes, which he, in 
every twenty-four hours, wastes over the bottle, or 
over cheese and oranges and raisins and biscuits^ 
after he has dined; how many he lounges away, 
either at the coffee-house or at home, over the useless 
part of newspapers ; how many he spends in wait- 
ing for the coming and the managing of the tea-ta- 
ble; how many he passes by candle-light, wearied 
of his existence, when he might be in bed ; how many 
he passes in the morning in bed, while the sun and 
dew shine and sparkle for him in vain : if he were 
to put all these together, and were to add those which 
he passes in the reading of books for his mere per- 
sonal amusement, and without the smallest chance of 
acquiring from them any useful practical knowledge: 
if he were to sum up the whole of these, and add to 
them the time worse than wasted in the contemptible 
work of dressing off his person, he would be frighten- 
ed at the result; would send for his boys from school; 
and if greater book-learning than he possessed were 
necessary, he would choose for the purpose some 
man of ability, and see the teaching carried on under 
his own roof, with safety as to morals, and with the 
best chance as to health. 

308. If after all, however, a school must be resort- 
ed to, let it, if in your power, be as little populous as 
possible. As "evil communications corrupt good 
manners," so the more numerous the assemblage, 
and the more extensive the communication, the 
greater the chance of corruption. Jails, barracks, 
factories* do not corrupt by their xoalls, but by their 
20* 



234 cobbett's advice [Letter 

condensed numbers. Populous cities corrupt from 
the same cause ; and it is, because it must be, the 
same with regard to schools, out of which children 
come not what they were when they w r ent in. The 
master is, in some sort, their enemy ; he is their 
overlooker ; he is a spy upon them ; his authority 
is maintained by his absolute power of punishment •, 
the parent commits them to that power ; to be taught 
is to be held in restraint ; and, as the sparks fly up- 
wards, the teaching and the restraint will not be di- 
vided in the estimation of the boy. Besides all this, 
there is the great disadvantage of tardiness in arri- 
ving at years of discretion. If boys live only with 
boys, their ideas will continue to be boyish ; if they 
see and hear and converse with nobody but boys, 
how are they to have the thoughts and the character 
of men ? It is, at last, only by hearing men talk 
and seeing men act, that they learn to talk and act 
like men ; and, therefore, to confine them to the so- 
ciety of boys, is to retard their arrival at the years 
of discretion ; and in case of adverse circumstances 
in the pecuniary way, where, in all the creation, is 
there so helpless a mortal as a boy who has always 
been at school ! But, if, as I said before, a school 
there must be, let the congregation be as small as 
possible ; and, do not expect too much from the 
master ; for, if it be irksome to you to teach your 
own sons, what must that teaching be to him ? If he 
have great numbers, he must delegate his authority ; 
and, like all other delegated authority, it will either 
be abused or neglected. 

309. With regard to girls, one would think that 
mothers, would want no argument to make them 
shudder at the thought of committing the care of 
their daughters to other hands than their own. If 
fortune have so favoured them as to make them ra- 
tionally desirous that their daughters should have 
more of what are called accomplishments than they 
themselves have, it has also favoured them with the 
means of having teachers under their own eye. If 
it have not favoured them so highly as this (and it 



V.] TO A FATHER. 235 

seldom has in the middle rank of life), what duty so 
sacred as that imposed on a mother to be the teach- 
er of her daughters ! And is she, from love of ease 
or of pleasure or of any thing else, to neglect this 
duty; is she to commit her daughters to the care of 
persons, with whose manners and morals it is im- 
possible for her to be thoroughly acquainted ; is she 
to send them into the promiscuous society of girls, 
who belong to nobody knows whom, and come from 
nobody knows whither, and some of whom, for aught 
she can know to the contrary, may have been cor- 
rupted before, and sent thither to be hidden from 
their former circle ; is she to send her daughters to 
be shut up within walls, the bare sight of which 
awaken the idea of intrigue and invite to seduction 
and surrender ; is she to leave the health of her 
daughters to chance, to shut them up with a motley 
bevy of strangers, some of whom, as \& frequently 
the case, are proclaimed bastards, by the undeniable 
testimony given by the colour of their skin ; is she 
to do all this, and still put forward pretensions to the 
authority and the affection due to a mother! And, 
are you to permit all this, and still call yourself a 
father* ! 

310. Well, then, having resolved to teach your 
own children, or, to have them taught, at home, let 
us now see how they ought to proceed as to books 
for learning. It is evident, speaking of boys, that, 
at last, they must study the art, or science, that you 
intend them to pursue ; if they be to be surgeons, 
they must read books on surgery ; and the like in 
other cases. But, there are certain elementary stu- 
dies ; certain books to be used by all persons, who 
are destined to acquire any book-learning at all. Then 
there are departments, or branches of knowledge, 
that every man in the middle rank of life, ought, if 
he can, to acquire, they being, in some sort, necessa- 
ry to his reputation as a well-informed man, a cha- 
racter to which the farmer and the shopkeeper ought 
to aspire as well as the lawyer and the surgeon. Let 
me now, then, offer my advice as to the course of 



236 cobbett's advice [Letter 

reading, and the manner of reading, for a boy, ar- 
rived at his fourteenth year, that being, in my opi- 
nion, early enough for him to begin. 

311. And, first of all, whether as to boys or girls, 
I deprecate romances of every description. It is 
impossible that they can do any good, and they may 
do a great deal of harm. They excite passions that 
ought to lie dormant ; they give the mind a taste for 
highly-seasoned matter ; they make matters of real 
life insipid ; every girl, addicted to them, sighs to be 
a Sophia Western, and every boy, a Tom Jones. 
"What girl is not in love with the wild youth, and 
what boy does not find a justification for his wild- 
ness ? What can be more pernicious than the teach- 
ings of this celebrated romance? Here are two 
young men put before us, both sons of the same 
mother; the one a bastard (and by a parson too), 
the other a legitimate child; the former wild, diso- 
bedient, and squandering ; the latter steady, sober, 
obedient, and frugal : the former every thing that is 
frank and generous in his nature, the latter a greedy 
hypocrite ; the former rewarded with the most beau- 
tiful and virtuous of women and a double estate, the 
latter punished by being made an outcast. How is 
it possible for young people to read such a book, and 
to look upon orderliness, sobriety, obedience, and 
frugality, as virtues? And this is the tenor of almost 
every romance, and of almost every play, in our 
language. In the "School for Scandal," for instance, 
we see two brothers; the one a prudent and frugal 
man, and, to all appearance, a moral man, the other 
a hair-brained squanderer, laughing at the morality 
of his brother ; the former turns out to be a base 
hypocrite and seducer, and is brought to shame and 
disgrace ; while the latter is found to be full of gene- 
rous sentiment, and Heaven itself seems to interfere 
to give him fortune and fame. In short, the direct 
tendency of the far greater part of these books, is, 
to cause young people to despise all those virtues, 
without the practice of which they must be a curse 
to their parents, a burden to the community, and 



V.J TO A FATHER. 237 

must, except by mere accident, lead wretched lives. 
I do not recollect one romance nor one play, in our 
language, which has not this tendency. How is it 
possible for young princes to read the historical plays 
of the punning and smutty Shakspeare,and not think, 
that to be drunkards, blackguards, the companions 
of debauchees and robbers, is the suitable beginning 
of a glorious reign ? 

312. There is, too, another most abominable prin- 
ciple that runs through them all, namely, that there 
is in high birth, something of superior nature, in- 
stinctive courage, honour, and talent. Who can look 
at the two royal youths in Cymbeline, or at the noble 
youth in Douglas, without detesting the base para- 
sites who wrote those plays? Here are youths, 
brought up by shepherds, never told of their origin, 
believing themselves the sons of these humble pa- 
rents, but discovering, when grown up, the highest 
notions of valour and honour, and thirsting for mi- 
litary renown, even while tending their reputed fa- 
thers' flocks and herds ! And why this species of 
falsehood ? To cheat the mass of the people ; to 
keep them in abject subjection ; to make them qui- 
etly submit to despotic sway. And the infamous 
authors are guilty of the cheat, because they are, in 
one shape or another, paid by oppressors out of means 
squeezed from the people. A true picture would 
give us just the reverse ; would show us that "high 
birth" is the enemy of virtue, of valour, and of ta- 
lent ; would show us, that with all their incalculable 
advantages, royal and noble families have, only by 
mere accident, produced a great man ; that, in gene- 
ral, they have been amongst the most effeminate, 
unprincipled, cowardly, stupid, and, at the very least, 
amongst the most useless persons, considered as in- 
dividuals, and not in connexion with the prerogatives 
and powers bestowed on them solely by the law. 

313. It is impossible for me, by any words that I 
can use, to express, to the extent of my thoughts, 
the danger of suffering young people to form their 
opinions from the writings of poets and romancers. 



238 cobbett's advice [Letter 

Nine times out of ten, the morality they teach is 
bad, and must have a bad tendency. Their wit is 
employed to ridicule virtue, as you will almost al- 
ways find, if you examine the matter to the bottom. 
The world owes a very large part of its sufferings 
to tyrants ; but what tyrant was there amongst the 
ancients, whom the poets did not place amongst the 
gods? Can you open an English poet, without, in 
some part or other of his works, finding the gross- 
est flatteries of royal and noble persons ? How are 
young people not to think that the praises bestowed 
on these persons are just? Dryden, Parnell, Gay, 
Thomson, in short, what poet have we had, or have 
we, Pope only excepted, who was not, or is not, a 
pensioner, or a sinecure placeman, or the wretched 
dependent of some part of the Aristocracy ? Of the 
extent of the powers of writers in producing mis- 
chief to a nation, we have two most striking instan- 
ces in the cases of Dr. Johnson and Burke. The 
former, at a time when it was a question whether 
war should be nrade on America to compel her to 
submit to be taxed by the English parliament, wrote 
a pamphlet, entitled, " Taxation no Tyranny?* to 
urge the nation into that war. The latter, when it 
was a question, whether England should wage war 
against the people of France, to prevent them from 
reforming their government, wrote a pamphlet to 
urge the nation into that war. The first war lost us 
America, the last cost us six hundred millions o\ 
money, and has loaded us with forty millions a year 
of taxes. Johnson, however, got a pension for his 
life, and Burke a pension for his life, and for three 
lives after his own ! Cumberland and Murphy, the 
play- writers, were pensioners ; and, in short, of the 
whole mass, where has there been one, whom the 
people were not compelled to pay for labours, having 
for their principal object the deceiving and enslaving 
of that same people ? It is, therefore, the duty of 
every father, when he puts a book into the hands of 
his son or daughter, to give the reader a true account 
of who and what the writer of the book was, or is. 






V.] 



TO A FATHER. 239 



314. If a boy be intended for any particular call- 
ing, he ought, of course, to be induced to read books 
relating to that calling, if such books there be ; and, 
therefore, I shall not be more particular on that head. 
But, there are certain things, that all men in the 
middle rank of life, ought to know something of; 
because the knowledge will be a source of pleasure; 
and because the want of it must, very frequently, 
give them pain, by making them appear inferior, in 
point of mind, to many who are, in fact, their infe- 
riors in that respect. These things are grammar •, 
arithmetic, history, accompanied with geography. 
Without these, a man, in the middle rank of life, 
however able he may be in his calling, makes but an 
awkward figure. Without grammar he cannot, 
with safety to his character as a well-informed man, 
put his thoughts upon paper; nor can he be sure, 
that he is speaking with propriety. How many clever 
men have I known, full of natural talent, eloquent 
by nature, replete with every thing calculated to 
give them weight in society; and yet having little 
or no weight, merely because unable to put correct- 
ly upon paper that which they have in their minds ! 
For me not to say, that I deem my English Gram- 
mar the best book for teaching this science, would 
be affectation, and neglect of duty besides; because 
I know, that it is the best ; because I wrote it for the 
purpose; and because, hundreds and hundreds of 
men and women have told me, some verbally, and 
some by letter, that, though (many of them) at 
grammar schools for years, they really never knew 
any thing of grammar, until they studied my book. 
I, who know well all the difficulties that I experi- 
enced when I read books upon the subject, can easily 
believe this, and especially when I think of the nu- 
merous instances in which I have seen university- 
scholars unable to write English, with any tolerable 
degree of correctness. In this book, the principles 
are so clearly explained, that the disgust arising from 
intricacy is avoided; and it is this disgust, that is 
the great and mortal enemy of acquiring knowledge. 



240 cobbett's advice [Letter 

315. With regard to arithmetic, it is a branch of 
learning absolutely necessary to every one, who has 
any pecuniary transactions beyond those arising 
out of the expenditure of his week's wages. All 
the books on this subject that I had ever seen, were 
so bad, so destitute of every thing calculated to lead 
the mind into a knowledge of the matter, so void of 
principles, and so evidently tending to puzzle and 
disgust the learner, by their sententious, and crab- 
bed, and quaint, and almost hierogtyphical defini- 
tions, that I, at one time, had the intention of wri- 
ting a little work on the subject myself. It was put 
off, from one cause or another ; but a little work on 
the subject has been, partly at my suggestion, writ- 
ten and published by Mr. Thomas Smith of Liver- 
pool, and is sold by Mr. Sherwood, in London. 
The author has great ability, and a perfect know- 
ledge of his subject. It is a book of principles ; 
and any young person of common capacity, will 
learn more from it in a week, than from all the 
other books, that I ever saw on the subject, in a 
twelvemonth. 

316. While the foregoing studies are proceeding, 
though they very well afford a relief to each other, 
history may serve as a relaxation, particularly du- 
ring the study of grammar, which is an undertaking 
requiring patience and time. Of all history, that 
of our own country is of the most importance ; be- 
cause, for a want of a thorough knowledge of what 
has been, we are, in many cases, at a loss to account 
for ivhat is, and still more at a loss to be able to show 
what ought to be. The difference between history and 
romance is this ; that that which is narrated in the lat- 
ter, leaves in the mind nothing which it can apply to 
present or future circumstances and events ; while 
the former, when it is what it ought to be, leaves the 
mind stored with arguments for experience, applica- 
ble, at all times, to the actual affairs of life. The 
history of a country ought to show the origin and 
progress of its institutions, political, civil, and eccle- 
siastical ; it ought to show the effects of those insti- 



V J TO A FATHER. 241 

tutions upon the state of the people ; it ought to de- 
lineate the measures of the government at the seve- 
ral epochs ; and, having clearly described the state 
of the people at the several periods, it ought to 
show the cause of their freedom, good morals, 
and happiness ; or of their misery, immorality, and 
slavery; and this, too, by the production of indubi- 
table facts, and of inferences so manifestly fair, as to 
leave not the smallest doubt upon the mind. 

317. Do the histories of England which we have, 
answer this description? They are very little bet- 
ter than romances. Their contents are generally 
confined to narrations relating to battles, negocia- 
tions, intrigues, contests between rival sovereignties, 
rival nobles, and to the character of kings, queens, 
mistresses, bishops, ministers, and the like ; from 
scarcely any of which can the reader draw any 
knowledge which is at all applicable to the circum- 
stances of the present day. 

318. Besides this, there is the falsehood ; and the 
falsehoods contained in these histories, where shall 
we find any thing to surpass ? Let us take one in- 
stance. They all tell us that William the Conque- 
ror knocked down twenty-six parish churches, and 
laid waste the parishes in order to make the New 
Forest ; and this in a tract of the very poorest land 
in England, where the churches must then have stood 
at about one mile and two hundred yards from each 
other. The truth is, that all the churches are still 
standing that were there when William landed, and 
the whole story is a sheer falsehood from the begin- 
ning to the end. 

319. But, this is a mere specimen of these roman- 
ces ; and that too, with regard to a matter compara- 
tively unimportant to us. The important falsehoods 
are, those which misguide us by statement or by in- 
ference, with regard to the state of the people at the 
several epochs, as produced by the institutions of the 
country, or the measures of the Government. It is 
always the object of those who have power in their 
hands, to persuade the people that they are better off 

21 



242 cobbett's advice [Letter 

than their forefathers were : it is the great business 
of history to show how this matter stands ; and, 
with respect to this great matter, what are we to 
learn from any thing that has hitherto been called a 
history of England ! I remember, that, about a do- 
zen years ago, I was talking with a very clever 
young man, who had read twice or thrice over the 
History of England, by different authors ; and that 
I gave the conversation a turn that drew from him, 
unperceived by himself, that he did not know how 
tithes, parishes, poor-rates, church-rates, and the 
abolition of trial by jury in hundreds of cases, came 
to be in England ; and, that he had not the smallest 
idea of the manner in which the Duke of Bedford 
came to possess the power of taxing our cabbages 
in Covent-Garden. Yet, this is history. I have 
done a great deal, with regard to matters of this 
sort, in my famous History of the Protestant Re- 
formation ; for I may truly call that famous, which 
has been translated and published in all the modern 
languages. 

320. But, it is reserved for me to write a com- 
plete history of the country from the earliest times 
to the present day; and this, God giving me life 
and health, I shall begin to do in monthly numbers, 
beginning on the first of September, and in which I 
shall endeavour to combine brevity with clearness. 
We do not want to consume our time over a dozen 
pages about Edward the Third dancing at a ball, 
picking up a lady's garter, and making that garter 
the foundation of an order of knighthood, bearing 
the motto of " Honi soit qui mat y pense" It is not 
stuff like this ; but we want to know what was the 
state of the people ; what were a labourer's wages ; 
what were the prices of the food, and how the la- 
bourers were dressed in the reign of that great king. 
What is a young person to imbibe from a history 
of England, as it is called, like that of Goldsmith 7 
It is a little romance to amuse chiMren ; and the 
other historians have given us larger romances 
to amuse lazy persons who are grown up To de- 



V.] TO A FATHER. 243 

stroy the effects of these, and to make the people 
know what their country has been, will be my ob- 
ject ; and this, I trust, I shall effect. We are, it is 
said, to have a History of England from Sir James 
Mackintosh ; a History of Scotland from Sir WaLt 
ter Scott ; and a History of Ireland from Tommy 
Moore, the luscious poet. A Scotch lawyer, who is 
a pensioner, and a member for Knaresborough, 
which is well known to the Duke of Devonshire, 
who has the great tithes of twenty parishes in Ire- 
land, will, doubtless, write a most impartial History 
of England, and particularly as far as relates to 
boroughs and tithes. A Scotch romance-writer, 
who, under the name of Malagrowlher, wrote a 
pamplet to prove, that one-pound notes were the 
cause of riches to Scotland, will write, to be sure, a 
most instructive History of Scotland. And, from 
the pen of an Irish poet, who is a sinecure place- 
man and a protege of an English peer that has im- 
mense parcels of Irish confiscated estates, what a 
beautiful history shall we not then have of unfortu- 
nate Ireland I Oh, no ! We are not going to be 
content with stuff such as these men will bring out. 
Hume and Smollett and Robertson have cheated us 
long enough. We are not in a humour to be cheat- 
ed any longer. 

321. Geography is taught at schools, if we be- 
lieve the school-cards. The scholars can tell you all 
about the divisions of the earth, and this is very well 
for persons who have leisure to indulge their curio- 
sity ; but it does seem to me monstrous that a 
young person's time should be spent in ascertaining 
the boundaries of Persia or China, knowing nothing 
all the while about the boundaries, the rivers, the 
soil, or the products, or of the any thing else of 
Yorkshire or Devonshire. The first thing in geo- 
graphy is to know that of the country in which we 
live, especially that in which we were born ; I have 
now seen almost every hill and valley in it with my 
own eyes ; nearly every city and every town, and 
no small part of the whole of the villages. I am 



244 cobbett's advice [Letter 

therefore qualified to give an account of the country; 
and that account, under the title of Geographical 
Dictionary of England and Wales, I am now ha- 
ving printed as a companion to my history. ' 

322. When a young man well understands the 
geography of his own country ; when he has refer- 
red to maps on this smaller scale : when, in short, 
he knows all about his own country ; and is able to 
apply his knowledge to useful purposes, he may 
look at other countries, and particularly at those, the 
powers or measures of which are likely to affect his 
own country. It is of great importance to us to be 
well acquainted with the extent of France, the Uni- 
ted States, Portugal, Spain, Mexico, Turkey, and 
Russia ; but what need we care about the tribes of 
Asia and Africa, the condition of which can affect 
us no more than we would be affected by any thing 
that is passing in the moon ? 

323. When people have nothing useful to do, 
they may indulge their curiosity ; but, merely to 
read books> is not to be industrious, is not to study, 
and is not the way to become learned. Perhaps there 
are none more lazy, or more truly ignorant, than 
your everlasting readers. A book is an admirable 
excuse for sitting still ; and, a man who has con- 
stantly a newspaper, a magazine, a review, or some 
book or other in his hand, gets, at last, his head 
stuffed with such a jumble, that he knows not what 
to think about any thing. An empty coxcomb, that 
wastes his time in dressing, strutting, or strolling 
about, and picking his teeth, is certainly a most 
despicable creature, but scarcely less so than a mere 
reader of books, who is generally conceited, thinks 
himself wiser than other men, in proportion to the 
number of leaves that he has turned over. In short, 
a young man should bestow his time upon no book, 
the contents of which he cannot apply to some use- 
ful purpose. 

324. Books of travel, of biography, natural histo- 
ry, and particularly such as relate to agriculture and 
horticulture, are all proper, when leisure is afforded 



V.] TO A FATHER. 345 

for them ; and the two last are useful to a very great 
part of mankind ; but unless the subjects treated of 
are of some interest to us in our affairs, no time 
should be wasted upon them, when there are so 
many duties demanded at our hands by our families 
and our country. A man may read books for ever, 
and be an ignorant creature at last, and even the 
more ignorant for his reading. 

325. And, with regard to young women, everlast- 
ing book-reading is absolutely a vice. When they 
once get into the habit, they neglect all other matters, 
and, in some cases, even their very dress. Attend- 
ing to the affairs of the house; to the washing, the 
baking, the brewing, the preservation and cook- 
ing of victuals, the management of the poultry and 
the garden ; these are their proper occupations. It 
is said (with what truth I know not) of the present 
Queen (wife of William IV.,) that she was an active 
excellent manager of her house. Impossible to be- 
stow on her greater praise : and I trust that her ex- 
ample will have its due effect on the young women 
of the present day, who stand, but too generally, in 
need of that example. 

326. The great fault of the present generation, is, 
that, in all ranks, the notions of self-importance are 
too high. This has arisen from causes not visible to 
many, but the consequences are felt by all, and 
that, too, with great severity. There has been a 
general sublimating going on for many years. Not 
to put the word Esquire before the name of almost 
any man who is not a mere labourer or artizan, is 
almost an affront. Every merchant, every master- 
manufacturer, every dealer, if at all rich, is an Es- 
quire ; squires' sons must he gentlemen, and squires' 
wives and daughters ladies. If this were all; if it 
were merely a ridiculous misapplication of w^ords, 
the evil w r ould not be great : but, unhappily, w T ords 
lead to acts and produce things ; and the " young 
gentleman" is not easily to be moulded into a trades- 
man or a working farmer. And yet the world is 
too small to hold so many gentlemen and ladies, 

21* 



246 cobbett's advice [Letter 

How many thousands of young men have, at this 
moment, cause to lament that they are not carpen- 
ters, or masons, or tailors, or shoemakers ; and how 
many thousands of those, that they have been bred 
up to wish to disguise their honest and useful, and 
therefore honourable, calling ! Rousseau observes, 
that men are happy, first, in proportion to their vir- 
tue, and next, in proportion to their independence; 
and that, of all mankind, the artizan, or craftsman, 
is the most independent ; because he carries about 
in his own hands and person, the means of gaining 
his livelihood ; and that the more common the use 
of the articles on which he works, the more perfect 
his independence. " Where," says he, " there is one 
" man that stands in need of the talents of the den- 
" tist, there are a hundred thousand that want those 
" of the people who supply the matter for the teeth 
" to work on ; and for one who wants a sonnet to 
" regale his fancy, there are a million clamouring 
" for men to make or mend their shoes." Aye, and 
this is the reason, why shoemakers are proverbially 
the most independent part of the people, and why 
they, in general, show more public spirit than any 
other men. He who lives by a pursuit, be it what 
it may, which does not require a considerable degree 
of bodily labour, must, from the nature of things, be, 
more or less, a dependent ; and this is, indeed, the 
price which he pays for his exemption from that 
bodily labour. He may arrive at riches, or fame, or 
both ; and this chance he sets against the certainty 
of independence in humbler life. There always 
have been, there always will be, and there always 
ought to be, some men to take this chance ; but to do 
this has become the fashion, and a fashion it is the 
most fatal that ever seized upon a community. 

327. With regard to young women, too, to sing, 
to play on instruments of music, to draw, to speak 
French, and the like, are very agreeable qualifica- 
tions ; but why should they all be musicians, and 
painters, and linguists ? Why all of them ? Who, 
then, is there left to take care of the houses of far- 



V.j TO A FATHER. 247 

mers and traders ? But there is something in these 
11 accomplishments" worse than this ; namely, that 
they think themselves too high for farmers and tra- 
ders : and this, ill fact, they are ; much too high ; 
and, therefore, the servant-girls step in and supply 
their place. If they could see their own interest, 
surely they would drop this lofty tone, and these 
lofty airs. It is, however, the fault of the parents, 
and particularly of the father, whose duty it is to 
prevent them from imbibing such notions, and to 
show them, that the greatest honour they ought to 
aspire to is, thorough skill and care in the economy 
of a house. We are all apt to set too high a value 
on what we ourselves have done ; and I may do this ; 
but I do firmly believe, that to cure any young wo- 
man of this fatal sublimation, she has only patiently 
to read my Cottage Economy, written with an 
anxious desire to promote domestic skill and ability 
in that sex, on whom so much of the happiness of 
man must always depend. A lady in Worcester- 
shire told me, that until she read Cottage Economy 
she had never baked in the house, and had sel- 
dom had good beer ; that, ever since, she had looked 
after both herself; that the pleasure she had derived 
from it, was equal to the profit, and that the latter 
was very great. She said, that the article " on ba- 
king bread," was the part that roused her to the 
undertaking ; and, indeed, if the facts and argu- 
ments, there made use of, failed to stir her up to ac- 
tion, she must have been stone dead to the power of 
words. 

328. After the age that we have now been suppo- 
sing, boys and girls become wen and women ; and, 
there now only remains for the father to act towards 
them with impartiality. If they be numerous, or, 
indeed, if they be only two in number, to expect 
perfect harwony to reign amongst, or between, them, 
is to be unreasonable ; because experience shows us, 
that, even amongst the most sober, most virtuous, 
and most sensible, harmony so complete is very 
rare. By nature they are rivals for the affection and 



248 cobbett's advice [Letter 

applause of the parents ; in personal and mental 
endowments they become rivals ; and, when pecuni- 
ary interests come to be well understood and to have 
their weight, here is a rivalship, to prevent which 
from ending in hostility, require more affection and 
greater disinterestedness than fall to the lot of one 
out of one hundred families. So many instances 
have I witnessed of good and amiable families living 
in harmony, till the hour arrived for dividing pro- 
perty amongst them, and then, all at once, becoming 
hostile to each other, that I have often thought that 
property, coming in such a way, was a curse, and 
that the parties would have been far better off, had 
the parent had merely a blessing to bequeath them 
from his or her lips, instead of a will for them to dis- 
pute and wrangle over. 

329. With regard to this matter, all that the father 
can do, is to be impartial; but, impartiality does 
not mean positive equality in the distribution, but 
equality in proportion to the different deserts of the 
parties, their different wants, their different pecunia- 
ry circumstances, and different prospects in life; 
and these vary so much, in different families, that it 
is impossible to lay down any general rule upon the 
subject. But there is one fatal error, against which 
every father ought to guard his heart ; and the kind- 
er that heart is, the more necessary such guardian- 
ship. I mean the fatal error of heaping upon one 
child, to the prejudice of the rest; or, upon a part 
of them. This partiality sometimes arises from 
mere caprice ; sometimes from the circumstance of 
the favourite being more favoured by nature than 
the rest ; sometimes from the nearer resemblance to 
himself, that the father sees in the favourite ; and, 
sometimes, from the hope of preventing the favour- 
ed party from doing that which would disgrace the 
parent. All these motives are highly censurable, 
but the last is the most general, and by far the most 
mischievous in its effects. How many fathers have 
been ruined, how many mothers and families 
brought to beggary, how many industrious and vir- 



V.] TO A. FATHER. 249 

tuous groups have been pulled down from compe- 
tence to penury, from the desire to prevent one 
from bringing shame on the parent ! So that, con- 
trary to every principle of justice, the bad is re- 
warded for the badness ; and the good punished for 
the goodness. Natural affection, remembrance of 
infantine endearments, reluctance to abandon long- 
cherished hopes, compassion for the sufferings 
of your own flesh and blood, the dread of fatal 
consequences, from your adhering to justice; all 
these beat at your heart, and call on you to give 
way : but, you must resist them all ; or, your ru- 
in, and that of the rest of your family, are de- 
creed. Suffering is the natural and just punishment 
of idleness, drunkenness, squandering, and an indul- 
gence in the society of prostitutes ; and never did 
the world behold an instance of an offender, in this 
way, reclaimed but by the infliction of this punish- 
ment; particularly, if the society of prostitutes 
made part of the offence ; for, here is something that 
takes the heart from you. Nobody ever yet saw, 
and nobody ever will see, a young man, linked to a 
prostitute, and retain, at the same time, any, even 
the smallest degree of affection, for parents or 
brethren. You may supplicate, you may implore, 
you may leave yourself pennyless, and your virtu- 
ous children without bread ; the invisible cormorant 
will still call for more ; and, as we saw, only the 
other day, a wretch was convicted of having, at the 
instigation of his prostitute, beaten his aged mother, 
to get from her the small remains of the means 
necessary to provide her with food. In Heron's 
collection of God's judgment on wicked acts, it is 
related of an unnatural son, who fed his aged father 
upon orts and offal, lodged him in a filthy and crazy 
garret, and clothed him in sackcloth, while he 
and his wife and children lived in luxury ; that, 
having bought sackcloth enough for two dresses for 
his father, the children took away the part not made 
up, and hid it, and that, upon asking them what 
they could do this for, they told him that they meant 



250 cobbett's advice [Letter 

to keep it for him., when he should become old and 
walk with a stick ! This, the author relates, pierced 
his heart ; and, indeed, if this failed, he must have 
had the heart of a tiger ; but, even this would not 
succeed with the associate of a prostitute. When 
this vice, this love of the society of prostitutes ; 
when this vice has once got fast hold, vain are all 
your sacrifices, vain your prayers, vain your hopes, 
vain your anxious desire to disguise the shame from 
the world ; and, if you have acted well your part, 
no part of that shame falls on you, unless you have 
administered to the cause of it. Year authority has 
ceased ; the voice of the prostitute, or the charms of 
the bottle, or the rattle of the dice, has been more 
powerful than your advtee and example ; you must 
lament this : but, it is not to bow you down ; and, 
above all things, it is weak, and even criminally sel- 
fish, to sacrifice the rest of your family, in order to 
keep from the world the knowledge of that, which, 
if known, would, in your view of the matter, bring 
shame on yourself. 

330. Let me hope, however, that this is a calamity 
which will befall very few good fathers ; and that, of 
all such, the sober, industrious, and frugal habits of 
their children, their dutiful demeanor, their truth 
and their integrity, will come to smooth the path 
of their downward days, and be the objects on which 
their eyes will close. Those children must, in their 
turn, travel the same path ; and they may be assured, 
that, " Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy 
days may be long in the land," is a precept, a disre- 
gard of which never yet failed, either first or last, to 
bring its punishment. And, what can be more just 
than that signal punishment should follow such a 
crime; a crime directly against the voice of nature 
itself? Youth has its passions, and due allowance 
justice will make for these ; but, are the delusions 
of the boozer, the gamester, or the harlot, to be 
pleaded in excuse for a disregard of the source of 
your existence? Are those to be pleaded in apo- 
logy for giving pain to the father who has toiled 



V.J TO A CITIZEN. 261 

half a life-time in order to feed and clothe you, and 
to the mother whose breast has been to you the 
fountain of life ? Go, you, and shake the hand of 
the boon-companion ; take the greedy harlot to your 
arms : mock at the tears of your tender and anxious 
parents ; and, when your purse is empty and your 
complexion faded, receive the poverty and the scorn 
due to your base ingratitude ! 



LETTER VI. 

TO THE CITIZEN. 



331. Having now given my Advice to the Youth, 
the grown-up Man, the Lover, the Husband and the 
Father, I shall, in this concluding Number, tender 
my Advice to the Citizen, in which capacity every 
man has rights to enjoy and duties to perform, and 
these too of importance not inferior to those which 
belong to him, or are imposed upon him, as son, pa- 
rent, husband or father. The word citizen is not, in 
its application, confined to the mere inhabitants of 
cities : it means, a member of a civil society -, or com- 
munity ; and, in order to have a clear comprehension 
of man's rights and duties in this capacity, we must 
take a look at the origin of civil communities, 

332. Time was when the inhabitants of this island, 
for instance, laid claim to all things in it, without the 
words owner or property being known. God had 
given to all the people all the land and all the trees, 
and every thing else, just as he has given the bur- 
rows and the grass to the rabbits, and the bushes and 
the berries to the birds ; and each man had the good 
things of this world in a greater or less degree in 
proportion to his skill, his strength and his valour. 
This is what is called living under the Law op Na* 



252 cobbett>s advice [Letter 

ture ; that is to say, the law of self-preservation and 
self-enjoyment, without any restraint imposed by at 
regard for the good of our neighbours. 

333. In process of time, no matter from what 
cause, men made amongst themselves a compact, or 
an agreement, to divide the land and its products in 
such manner that each should have a share to his 
own exclusive use, and that each man should be 
protected in the exclusive enjoyment of his share by 
the united power of the rest ; and, in order to ensure 
the due and certain application of this united power, 
the whole of the people agreed to be bound by regu- 
lations, called Laws. Thus arose civil society ; thus 
arose property ; thus arose the words mine and thine. 
One man became possessed of more good things than 
another, because he was more industrious, more skil- 
ful, more careful, or more frugal : so that labour, of 
one sort or another, was the basis of all property. 

334. In what manner civil societies proceeded in 
providing for the making of laws and for the enforc- 
ing of them; the various ways in which they took 
measures to protect the weak against the strong ; 
how they have gone to work to secure wealth against 
the attacks of poverty ; these are subjects that it 
would require volumes to detail : but these truths 
are written on the heart of man : that all men are, 
by nature, equal; that civil society can never have 
arisen from any motive other than that of the benefit 
of the whole ; that, whenever civil society makes the 
greater part of the people worse off than they were 
under the Law of Nature, the civil compact is, in 
conscience, dissolved, and all the rights of nature 
return ; that, in civil society, the rights and the du- 
ties go hand in hand, and that, when the former are 
taken away, the latter cease to exist. 

335. Now, then, in order to act well our part, as 
citizens, or members of the community, we ought 
clearly to understand what our rights are ; for, on 
our enjoyment of these depend our duties, rights 
going before duties, as value received goes before 
payment. I know well, that just the contrary of 



VI.] TO A CITIZEN. 253 

this is taught in our political schools, where we are 
told, that our first duty is to obey the laws ; and it is 
not many years ago, that Horsley, Bishop of Ro- . 
Chester told us, that the people had nothing' to do 
with the laws but to obey them. The truth is, how- 
ever, that the citizen's first duty is to maintain his 
rights, as it is the purchaser's first duty to receive 
the thing for which he has contracted. 

336. Our rights in society are numerous ; the 
right of enjoying life and property; the right of 
exerting our physical and mental powers in an in- 
nocent manner; but, the great right of all, and with- 
out which there is, in fact, no right, is, the right of 
taking a part in the making of the laws by which we 
are governed. This right is founded in that law of 
Nature spoken of above; it springs out of the very 
principle of civil society; for what compact, what 
agreement, what common assent, can possibly be 
imagined by which men would give up all the rights 
of nature, all the free enjoyment of their bodies and 
their minds, in order to subject themselves to rules 
and laws, in the making of which they should have 
nothing to say, and which should be enforced upon 
them without their assent ? The great right, there- 
fore, of every man, the right of rights, is the right 
of having a share in the making of the laws, to 
which the good of the whole makes it his duty to 
submit. 

337. With regard to the means of enabling every 
man to enjoy this share, they have been different, in 
different countries, and, in the same countries, at 
different times. Generally it has been, and in great 
communities it must be, by the choosing of a few to 
speak and act in behalf of the many: and, as there 
will hardly ever be perfect unanimity amongst men 
assembled for any purpose whatever, where fact and 
argument are to decide the question, the decision is 
left to the majority, the compact being ihat the de- 
cision of the majority shall be that of the whole. 
Minors are excluded from ttys right, because the law * 
considers them as infants, because it makes the pa- 

22 



254 cobbett's advice [Letter 

rent answerable for civil damages committed by 
them, and because of their legal incapacity to make 
any compact. Women are excluded because husbands 
are answerable in law for their wives, as to their 
civil damages, and because the very nature of their 
sex makes the exercise of this right incompatible 
with the harmony and happiness of society. Men 
stained with indelible crimes are excluded, because 
they have forfeited their right by violating the laws, 
to which their assent has been given. Insane per- 
sons are excluded, because they are dead in the eye 
of the law, because the law demands no duty at their 
hands, because they cannot violate the law, because 
the law cannot affect them; and, therefore, they 
ought to have no hand in making it. 

338. But, with these exceptions, where is the 
ground whereon to maintain that any man ought to 
be deprived of this right, which he derives directly 
from the law of Nature, and which springs, as I said 
before, out of the same source with civil society it- 
self ? Am I told, that property ought to conferthis 
right ? Property sprang from labour, and not labour 
from property; so that if there were to be a distinc- 
tion here, it ought to give the preference to labour. 
All men are equal by nature ; nobody denies that 
they all ought to be equal in the eye of the law ; but, 
how are they to be thus equal, if the law begin by 
suffering some to enjoy this right and refusing the 
enjoyment to others ? It is the duty of every man 
to defend his country against an enemy, a duty im- 
posed by the law of Nature as well as by that of civil 
society, and without the recognition of this duty, 
there could exist no independent nation and no civil 
society. Yet, how are you to maintain that this is 
the duty of every man, if you deny to some men the 
enjoyment of a share in making the laws? Upon 
what principle are you to contend for equality here, 
while you deny its existence as to the right of shar- 
ing In the making of the laws? The poor man has 
a body and a soul as well as the rich man; like the 
latter, he has parents, Yifife and children ; a bullet or 



VI. J TO A CITIZEN. 255 

a sword is as deadly to him as to the rich man ; there 
are hearts to ache and tears to flow for him as well 
as for the squire or the lord or the loan-monger: yet, 
notwithstanding this equality, he is to risk all, and, 
if he escape, he is still to be denied an equality of 
rights ! If, in such a state of things, the artisan or 
labourer, when called out to fight in def nee of his 
country, were to answer: "Why should I risk my 
"life? I have no possession but my labour ; no ene- 
"my will take that from me ; you, the rich, possess 
"all the land and all its products; you make what 
" laws you please without my participation or assent; 
" j r ou punish me at your pleasure ; you say that my 
" want of property excludes me from the right of 
" having a share in the making of the laws ; you say 
"that the property that I have in my labour is no* 
" thing worth ; on what ground, then, do you call 
m on me to risk my life ?" If, in such a case, such 
questions were put, the answer is very difficult to be 
imagined. 

339. In cases of civil commotion the matter comes 
still more home to us. On what ground is the rich 
man to call the artisan from his shop or the labourer 
from the field t i \'^ the sheriff's posse or the mi- 
litia, if he refus «.»■' ' .e labourer and artisan the right 
of sharing in tho making of the laws? Why are 
they to risk their lives here ? To uphold the laws, 
and to protect property. What! laws, in the mak- 
ing of, or assenting to, which they have been allow- 
ed to have no share? Property, of which they are 
said to possess none ? What! compel men to come 
forth and risk their lives for the protection of proper- 
ty ; and then, in the same breath, tell them, that they 
are not allowed to share in the making of the laws, 
because, and ONLY BECAUSE, they have no pro- 
perty ! Not because they have committed any crime; 
not because they are idle or profligate; not because 
they are vicious in any way ; but solely because they 
have no propertij ; and yet, at the same time, compel 
them to come forth and risk their lives for the pro 
tection of properly ! 



256 coeeett's advice [Letter 

340. But, the paupers? Ought they to share in the 
making of the laws? And why not? What is a 
pauper ; what is one of the men to whom this de- 
grading appellation is applied ? A very poor man ; 
a man who is, from some cause or other, unable to 
supply himself with food and raiment without aid 
from the parish -rates. And, is that circumstance 
alone to deprive him of his right, a right of which 
he stands more in need than any other man ? Per- 
haps he has, for many years of his life, contributed 
directly to those rates ; and ten thousand to one he 
.has, by his labour, contributed to them indirectly. 
The aid which, under such circumstances, he receives, 
is his right ; he receives it not as an alms : he is no 
mendicant; he begs not; he comes to receive that 
which the law of the country awards him in lieu of 
the large?" portion assigned him by the law of Na- 
ture. Pray mark that, and let it be deeply engraven 
on your memory. The audacious and merciless 
Malthus (a parson of the church establishment) 
recommended, some years ago, the passing of a law 
to put an end to the giving of parish relief though 
he recommended no law to put an end to the enor- 
mous taxes paid by poor people. In his book he said, 
that the poor should be left to the law of Nature, 
which, in case of their having nothing to buy food 
with, doomed them to starve. They would ask no- 
thing better than to be left to the law of Nature ; that 
law which knows nothing about buying food or any 
thing else ; that law which bids the hungry and the na- 
ked take food and raiment wherever they find it best 
and nearest at hand ; that law which awards all pos- 
sessions to the strongest; that law the operations of 
which would clear out the London meat-markets 
and the drapers' and jewellers' shops in about half 
an hour; to this law the parson wished the parlia- 
ment to leave the poorest of the working people ; 
but, if the parliament had done it, it would have been 
quickly seen, that this law w T as far from " dooming 
them to be starved." 
341. Trusting that it is unnecessary for me to ex- 



VI."] TO A CITIZEN. 257 

press a hope, that barbarous thoughts like those of 
Malthus and his tribe will never be entertained by 
any young man who has read the previous Numbers 
of this work, let me return to my very, very poor 
man, and ask, whether it be consistent with justice, 
with humanity, with reason, to deprive a man of the 
most precious of his political rights, because, and 
only because, he has been, in a pecuniary way, sin- 
gularly unfortunate? The Scripture says, "De- 
spise not the poor, because he is poor ;" that is to 
say, despise him not on account of his poverty. Why, 
then, deprive him of his right ; why put him out of 
the pale of the law, on account of his poverty? 
There are some men, to be sure, who are reduced to 
poverty by their vices, by idleness, by gaming, by 
drinking, by squandering; but, the far greater part 
by bodily ailments, by misfortunes to the effects of 
which all men may, without any fault, and even 
without any folly, be exposed: and, is there a man 
on earth so cruelly unjust as to wish to add to the 
sufferings of such persons by stripping them of their 
political rights ? How many thousands of indus- 
trious and virtuous men have, within these few years, 
been brought down from a state of competence to 
that of pauperism! And, is it just to strip such men 
of their rights, merely because they are thus brought 
down ? When I was at Ely, last spring, there were, 
in that neighbourhood, three paupers cracking stones 
on the roads, who had all three been, not only rate- 
payers, but overseers of the poor, within seven years 
of the day when I was there. Is there any man so 
barbarous as to say, that these men ought, merely 
on account of their misfortunes, to be deprived of 
their political rights ? Their right to receive relief 
is as perfect as any right of property; and, would 
you, merely because they claim this right, strip 
them of another right ? To say no more of the in- 
justice and the cruelty, is there reason, is there com- 
mon sense in this ? What ! if a farmer or tradesman 
be, by flood or by fire, so totally ruined as to be 
compelled, surrounded by his family, to resort to 
22* 



258 cobeett's advice [Letter 

the parish-book, would you break the last heart- 
string of such a man by making him feel the degra- 
ding loss of his political rights? 

342. Here, young man of sense and of spirit ; 
here is the point on which you are to take your stand. 
There are always men enough to plead the cause of 
the rich; enough and enough to echo the woes of 
the fallen great; but, be it your part to show com- 
passion for those who labour, and to maintain their 
rights. Poverty is not a crime, and, though it some- 
times arises from faults, it is not, even in that case, 
to be visited by punishment beyond that which it 
brings with itself. Remember, that poverty is de- 
creed by the very nature of man. The Scripture 
says, that " the poor shall never cease from out of 
the land;" that is to say, that there shall always be 
some very poor people. This is inevitable from the 
very nature of things. It is necessary to the exist- 
ence of mankind, that a very large portion of every 
people should live by manual labour ; and, as such 
labour is pain, more or less, and as no living crea- 
ture likes pain, it must be, that the far greater part 
of labouring people will endure only just as much 
of this pain as is absolutely necessary to the supply 
of their daily viants. Experience says that this has 
always been, and reason and nature tell us, that this 
must always be. Therefore, when ailments, when 
losses, when untoward circumstances of any sort, 
stop or diminish the daily supply, want comes : and 
every just government will provide, from the gene- 
ral stock, the means to satisfy this want. 

343. Nor is the deepest poverty without its useful 
effects in society. To the practice of the virtues of 
abstinence, sobriety, care, frugality, industry, and 
even honesty and amiable manners and acquirement 
of talent, the two great motives are, to get upwards 
in riches or fame, and to avoid going downwards to 
'poverty, the last of which is the most powerful ot 
tne two. It is, therefore, not with contempt, but 
with compassion, that we should look on those, 
whose state is one of the decrees of nature from 



VL] TO A CITIZEN. 259 

whose sad example we profit, and to whom, in re- 
turn, we ought to make compensation by every in- 
dulgent and kind act in our power, and particularly 
by a defence of their rights. To those who labour, 
we, who labour not with our hands, owe all that we 
eat, drink and wear; all that shades us by day and 
that shelters us by night ; all the means of enjoying 
health and pleasure ; and, therefore, if we possess 
talent for the task, we are ungrateful or cowardly, or 
both, if we omit any effort within our power to pre- 
vent them from being slaves ; and, disguise the mat- 
ter how we may, a slave, a real slave, every man is, 
who has no share in making the laws which he is 
compelled to obey. 

344. What is a slave ? For, let us not be amused 
by a name ; but look well into the matter. A slave 
is, in the first place, a man who has nq property ; 
and property means something that he has, and that 
nobody can take from him without his leave, or 
consent. Whatever man, no matter what he may 
call himself or any body else may call him, can have 
his money or his goods taken from him by force, by 
virtue of an order, or ordinance, or law, which he 
has had no hand in making, and to which he has not 
given his assent, has no property, and is merely a 
depositary of the goods of his master. A slave has 
no property in his laborer ; and any man who is 
compelled to give up the fruit of his labour to ano- 
ther, at the arbitrary will of that other, has no pro- 
perty in his labour, and is, therefore, a slave, whether 
the fruit of his labour be taken from him directly or 
indirectly. If it be said, that he gives up this fruit 
of his labour by his own will, and that it is not for- 
ced from, him. I answer, To be sure he may avoid 
eating and drinking and may go naked ; but, then he 
must die ; and on this condition, and this condition 
only, can he refuse to give up the fruit of his labour; 
" Die, wretch, or surrender as much of your income, 
or the fruit of your labour as your masters choose 
to take." This is, in fact, the language of the rulers 



cobbett's advice [Letter 

to every man who is refused to have a share in the 
making of the laws to which he is forced to submit. 
345. But, some one may say, slaves are private 
property, and may be bought and sold, out and out, 
like cattle. And, what is it to the slave, whether he 
be property of one or of many ; or, what matters it 
to him, whether he pass from master to master by a 
sale for an indefinite term, or be let to hire by the 
year, month, or week? It is, in no case the flesh and 
blood and bones that are sold, but the labour ; and, 
if you actually sell the labour of man, is not that 
man a slave, though you sell it for only a short time 
at once ? And, as to the principle, so ostentatiously 
displayed in the case of the black slave-trade, that 
u man ought not to have a property in man? it is 
even an advantage to the slave to be private proper- 
ty, because*the owner has then a clear and powerful 
interest in the preservation of his life, health and 
strength, and will, therefore, furnish him amply with 
the food and raiment necessary for these ends. Eve- 
ry one knows, that public property is never so well 
taken care of as private property : and this, too, on 
the maxim, that " that which is everybody's business 
is nobody's business." Every one knows that a 
rented farm is not so well kept in heart, as a farm in 
the hands of the owner. And, as to punishments and 
restraints, what difference is there, whether these 
be inflicted and imposed by a private owner, or his 
overseer, or by the agents and overseers of a body of 
proprietors ? In short, if you can cause a man to be 
imprisoned or whipped if he do not work enough to 
please you ; if you can sell him by auction for a time 
limited ; if you can forcibly separate him from his 
wife to prevent their having children ; if you can 
shut him up in his dwelling place when you please, 
and for as long a time as you please ; if you can 
force him to draw a cart or wagon like a beast of 
draught ; if you can, when the humour seizes you, 
and at the suggestion of your mere fears, or whim, 
cause him to be shut up in a dungeon during your 



VI. j TO A CITIZEN. 261 

pleasure: if you can, at your pleasure, do these 
things to him, is it not to be impudently hypocritical 
to affect to call him a free-man ? But, after all, these 
may all be wanting, and yet the man be a slave, if 
he be allowed to have no property ; and, as I have 
shown, no property he can have, not even in that 
labour, which is not only property, bat the basis of 
all other property, unless he have a share in making 
the laws to which he is compelled to submit. 

346. It is said, that he may have this share virtu- 
ally though not in form and name ; for that his em- 
ployers may have such share, and they will, as a 
matter of course, act for him. This doctrine, push- 
ed home, would make the chief of the nation the 
sole maker of the laws ; for, if the rich can thus act 

for the poor, why should not the chief act for the 
rich 1 This matter is very completely explained by 
the practice in the United States of America. 
There the maxim is, that every free man, with the 
exception of men stained with crime and men in- 
sane, has a right to have a voice in choosing those 
who make the laws. The number of Representa- 
tives sent to the Congress is, in each State, propor- 
tioned to the number of free people. But, as there 
are slaves in some of the States, these States have a 
certain portion of additional numbers on account of 
those slaves. Thus the slaves are represented by 
their owners ; and this is real, practical, open and 
undisguised virtual representation ! No doubt that 
white men may be represented in the same way ; for 
the colour of the skin is nothing; but let them be 
called slaves, then ; let it not be pretended that they 
are free men; let not the word liberty be polluted 
by being applied to their state : let it be openly and 
honestly avowed, as in America, that they are 
slaves ; and then will come the question whether 
men ought to exist in such a state, or whether they 
ought to do every thing in their power to rescue 
themselves from it. 

347. I.f the right to have a share in making the 



262 cobbett's advice [Letter 

laws were merely a feather ; if it were a fanciful 
thing ; if it were only a speculative theory ; if it 
were but an abstract 'principle; on any of these 
suppositions, it might be considered as of little im- 
portance. But it is none of these ; it is a practical 
matter ; the want of it not only z's, but must of ne- 
cessity be, felt by every man who lives under that 
want. If it were proposed to the shopkeepers in a 
town, that a rich man or two, living in the neigh- 
bourhood, should have power to send, whenever they 
pleased, and take away as much as they pleased of 
the money of the shopkeepers, and apply it to what 
uses they please 5 What an outcry the shopkeepers 
would make ! And yet, what would this be more 
than taxes imposed on those who have no voice in 
choosing the persons who impose them ? Who lets 
another man put his hand into his purse when he 
pleases ? Who, that has the power to help himself, 
surrenders his goods or his money to the will of 
another ? Has it not always been, and must it not 
always be, true, that, if your property be at the ab- 
solute disposal of others, your ruin is certain? And 
if this be, of necessity, the case amongst individcB 
and parts of the community, it must be the case 
with regard to the whole community, 

848. Aye, and experience shows us that it always 
has been the case. The natural and inevitable con- 
sequences of a want of this right in the people have, in 
all countries, been taxes pressing the industrious and 
laborious to the earth ; severe laws and standirig 
armies to compel the people to submit to those tax- 
; es ; wealth, luxury, and splendour, amongst ihose 
who make the laws and receive the taxes ; poverty, 
misery, immorality and crime, amongst those who 
bear the burdens ; and at last commotion, revolt, re- 
venge, and rivers of blood. Such have always been, 
and such must always be, the consequences of a 
want of this right of all men to share in the ma- 
king of the laws, a right, as I have before shown, 
derived immediately from the law of Nature, spring- 



VI.J TO A CITIZEN. 263 

ing up out of the same source with civil society, and 
cherished in the heart of man by reason and by ex- 
perience. 

349. Well, then, this right being that, without the 
enjoyment of which there is, in reality, no right at 
all, how manifestly is it tlie first duty 6f every man 
to do all in his power to maintain this right where 
it exists, and to restore it where it has been lost ? 
For observe, it must at one time, have existed in 
every civil community, it being impossible that it 
could ever be excluded by any social compact ; ab- 
solutely impossible, because it is contrary to the law 
of self-preservation to believe, that men would agree 
to give up the rights of nature without stipulating 
for some benefit. Before we can affect to believe that 
this right was not reserved, in such compact, as com- 
pletely as the right to live was reserved, we must af- 
fect to believe, that millions of men, under no con- 
trol but that of their own passions and desires, 

d having all the earth and its products at the corn- 
el of their strength and skill, consented to be 
Rver, they and their posterity, the slaves of a 
few. 

350. We cannot believe this, and therefore, with- 
PT going back into history and precedents, we must 

believe, that, in whatever civil community this right 
does not exist, it has been lost, or rather, unjustly 
taken way. And then, having seen the terrible evils 
which always have arisen, and always must arise, 
from the want of it ; being convinced that, where ' 
lost or taken awavby force or fraud, it is our very, 
first duty to do all;; in our power to restore it, the*; 
next consideration is, how one ought to act in the^ 
discharge of this most sacred duty; for sacred it is 
even as the duties of husband and father. For, be- 
sides the baseness of the thought of quietly submit- 
ting to be a slave oneself we have here, besides our 
duty to the community, a duty to perform towards 
our children and our children's children. We all 
acknowledge that it is our bounden duty to provide. 



264 cobbett's advice [Letter 

as far as our power will go, for the competence, the 
health, and the good character of our children ; but, 
is this duty superior to that of which I am now speak- 
'ing? What is competence, what is health, if the 
possessor be a slave, and hold his possessions at the 
will of another, or others ; as he must do if desti- 
tute of the right to a share in the making of the 
laws ? What is competence, what is health, if both 
can, at any moment, be snatched away by the grasp 
or the dungeon of a master ; and his master he is 
who makes the laws without his participation or as- 
sent ? And, as to character, as to fairfawe, when the 
white slave puts forward pretensions to those, let 
him no longer affect to commiserate the state of his 
sleek and fat brethrerrin Barbadoes and Jamaica; 
let him hasten to mix the hair with the wool, to 
blend the white with the black, and to lose the 
memory of his origin amidst a dingy generation. 

351. Such, then, being the nature of the duty, 
how are we to go to work in the performance of it, 
and what are our weans ? With regard to these, 
various are the circumstances, so endless the diffe 
ences in the states of society, and so many arH 
cases when it would be madness to attempt that 
which it would be prudence to attempt in others, 
that no general rule can be given beyond this ; that, 
the right and the duty being clear to our minds, the 
on cans that are surest and swiftest are the best. In 
every such case, however, the great and predominant 
desire ought to be not to employ any means beyond 
those of reason and persuasion, as long as the employ- 
ment of these afford a ground fof rational expectation 
of success. Men ar§, in such a case, labouring, not for 
the present day only, but forages to come; and there- 
fore they should not slacken in their exertions, because 
the grave may close upon them before the day of 
final triumph arrive. Amongst the virtues of the 
good Citizen are those of fortitude and patience ; 
and, when he has to carry on his struggle against 
corruptions deep and widely-rooted, he is not to 



Vl.J TO A. CITIZEN. 265 

expect the baleful tree to come down at a single 
blow; he must patiently remove the earth that 
props and feeds it, and sever the accursed roots one 
by one. 

3 ~>2. Impatience here is a very bad sign. I do not 
like your patriots, who, because the tree does not 
give way at once, fall to blaming all about them, 
accuse their feilow-sufferers of cowardice, because 
they do not do that which they themselves dare 
not think of doing. Such conduct argues chagrin 
and disappointment ; and these argue a selfish feeling; 
they argue, that there has been more of private am- 
bition and gain at work than of public good. Such 
blamers, such general accusers, are always to be sus- 
pected. What does the real patriot want more than 
to feel conscious that he has done his duty towards 
his country ; and that, if life should not allow him 
time to see his endeavours crowned with success, 
his children will see it ? The impatient patriots are 
like the young men (mentioned in the beautiiul fa- 
ble of La Fontaine) who ridiculed the man of 
fourscore, who was planting an avenue of very small 
trees, which, they told him that he never could ex- 
pect to see as high as his head. " Well," said he, 
iC and, what of that ? If their shade afford me no 
" pleasure, it may afford pleasure to my children, 
" and even to you ; and, therefore, the planting of 
to them gives me pleasure." 

353. It is the want of the noble disinterestedness, 
so beautifully expressed in this fable, that produces 
the impatient patriots. They wish very well to 
their country, because they want some of the good 
for themselves. Very natural that all men should 
wish to see the good arrive, and wish to share in it 
too ; but, we must look on the dark side of nature 
to find the disposition to cast blame on the whole 
community because our wishes are not instantly ac- 
complished, and especially to cast blame on others 
for not doing that which we ourselves dare not at- 
tempt. There is, however, a sort of patriot a great 
23 



J 



266 cobbett's advice [Lettei* 

deal worse than this ; he, who having failed himself, 
would see his country enslaved for ever, rather than 
see its deliverance achieved by others. His failure 
has, perhaps, arisen solely from his want of talent, 
or discretion : yet his selfish heart would wish his 
country sunk in everlasting degradation, lest his 
inefficiency for the task should be established by the 
success of others. A very hateful character, certain- 
ly, but, I am sorry to say, by no means rare. Envy, 
always associated with meanness of soul, always 
detestable, is never so detestable as when it shows 
itself here, 

354. Be it your care, my young friend (and I ten- 
der you this, as my parting advice,) if you find this 
base and baleful passion, which the poet calls " the 
eldest born of hell ;" if you find it creeping into 
your heart, be it your care to banish it at once and 
for ever ; for, if once it nestle there, farewell to all 
the good which nature has enabled you to do, and to 
your peace into the bargain. It has pleased God to 
make an unequal distribution of talent, of industry, 
of perseverance, pf a capacity to labour, of all the 
qualities that give men distinction. We have not 
been our own makers : it is no fault in you that na- 
ture has placed him above you, and surely, it is no 
fault in him; and would you punish him on ac- 
count, and only on account, of his pre-eminence ! 
If you have read this book you will startle with 
horror at the thought : you will, as to public mat- 
ters, act with zeal and with good humour, though the 
place you occupy be far removed from the first ; you 
will support with the best of your abilities others, 
who, from whatever circumstance, may happen to 
take the lead ; you will not suffer even the con- 
sciousness and the certainty of your own superior 
talents to urge you to do any thing which might by 
possibility be injurious to your country's cause ; 
you will be forbearing under the aggressions of ig- 
norance, conceit, arrogance, and even the blackest of 
ingratitude superadded, if by resenting these you 



VI.] TO A CITIZEN. 267 

endanger the general good ; and, above all things, 
you will have the justice to bear in mind, that that 
country which gave you birth, is, to the last hour of 
your capability,entitled to your exertions in her behalf, 
and that you ought not, by acts of commission or of 
omission, to visit upon her the wrongs which may 
have been inflicted on you by the envy and malice 
of individuals. Love of one's native soil is a feeling 
which nature has implanted in the human breast, 
and that has always been peculiarly strong in the 
breasts of Englishmen. God has given us a coun- 
try of which to be proud, and that freedom, great- 
ness and renown, which were handed down to us by 
our wise and brave forefathers, bid us perish to the 
last man, rather than suffer the land of their graves 
to become a land of slavery, impotence and disho- 
nour. 

355. In the words with which I concluded my En- 
glish Grammar, which I addressed to my son James, 
I conclude my advice to you. " With English and 
" French on your tongue and in your pen, you have 
" a resource, not only greatly valuable in itself, but 
<c a resource that you can be deprived of by none*of 
"those changes and chances which deprive men of 
" pecuniary possessions, and which, in some cases, 
" make the purse-proud man of yesterday a crawling 
cc sycophant to-day. Health, without which life is 
" not worth having, you will hardly fail to secure 
"by early rising, exercise, sobriety, and abstemious- 
" ness as to food. Happiness, or misery, is in the 
"mind. It is the mind that lives; and the length 
" of life ought to be measured by the number and 
cc importance of our ideas, and not by the number 
" of our days. Never, therefore, esteem men mere- 
w ly on account of their riches or their station. Re- 
"spect goodness, find it where you may. Honour 
" talent wherever you behold it unassociated with 
" vice ; but, honour it most when accompanied with 
" exertion, and especially when exerted in the cause 
tt of truth and justice ; and, above all things, hold it 



268 cobbett's advice to a citizen. [Letter VI. 

" in honour, when it steps forward to protect defence- 
" less innocence against the attacks of powerful 
"guilt." These words, addressed to my own son, 
I now, in taking my leave, address to yon. Be just, 
be industrious, be sober, and be happy ; and the 
hope tli at these effects will, in some degree, have 
been caused by this little work, will add to the hap- 
piness of 

Your friend and humble servant, 

WILLIAM COBBETT. 
Kensington, c 25th Aucr. 1830, 






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